


Paper Stars

by flollius



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (Still my fav tag), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Big Brother Fíli, Biker gangs yay!, But the races are still the same, Drugs everywhere, Durin Family Feels, F/M, Family Drama, Fíli-centric, Implied Past Childhood Abuse, Kili whump, Lots of Bad Blood, Past Drug Addiction, Thorin's A+ Parenting, old habits die hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flollius/pseuds/flollius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may be from a family of drug-dealing, gang-banging criminals with the biggest piece of turf between the Iron Hills and the Sea of Rhûn, but Fili is a good person. He's clean. He's gone straight. He works hard. He hasn't even seen or spoken to the family in years, and, god willing, he never will. </p><p>But then, his brother goes missing and nobody knows where he is. Back home for the first time in years, Fili has to piece together the story of Kili's disappearance and dive right back into the criminal underbelly of a town in ruins in order to find his brother. And, after years of silence, he has to confront a 'Family' more terrifying and dangerous than any gun-toting gang of bikers and crooks - his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tawabids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tawabids/gifts).



> THIS WAS ACTUALLY SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE. 
> 
> I actually love Modern AUs in a way, and I love the idea of it being close to the 'present day', but everyone is all different sizes, and you have to have different chairs at restaurants and waiting rooms for people, and footstools and reception desks and... ugh. So much fun. 
> 
> But yay! This is my (incredibly belated now, I'M SO SORRY) birthday present to Tawabids, and I figured, hey, it's Fili-centric and the fandom needs more of that, so why not post it. Also because I'm a total kudos-whore, let's be real now.

Inseparable, their mother used to joke about them at the kitchen table a lot before she died, a glass of gin in one hand and cigarette in the other. If you wanted those boys to come home, she laughed, you only had to call one of them. The other would be along soon enough.

Even when Fili grew old enough to drive, tearing around the back roads through the hills in a broken-down Âvul that Thorin had picked up for him, and Kili tried to follow him in his bicycle, wailing that it wasn't fair, they somehow vanished and reappeared as a pair. When Kili got his first motorcycle and promptly crashed it, breaking his leg and cracking three ribs, it was was Fili who found him first and stayed by his side every minute he was in the hospital.  They were even arrested together, the night before Kili’s birthday. A neighbour caught them breaking into a policeman's house and rifling through his wife's jewellery box, sky-high on crystal and with a blood alcohol level that should have killed them. They were bailed out by Thorin and escaped charges together. They were involved in a nasty brawl outside a bar in the orcish ghetto together. And when the judge said there were no second chances in his courtroom, they served eighteen months in prison together.

So when Fili left like he did, without saying goodbye and without leaving an address or phone number, only a short note saying that he couldn’t go on like this anymore, it hit Kili hardest of all.

* * *

"Ugh— oh, yes, that's it, right there. More— more! Give it to me!" Fili tried to block her out. He should have turned Anah over on her stomach first, pushed her face into the pillow to muffle her whining, screeching moans. Her nails dug into his back, as though she wanted to tear his skin off and get inside his muscles and veins. Anah was as smooth as a little girl all over, with a streaming mane of cornsilk hair that tried to suggest elven blood, but mousy roots admitted came from a bottle.

Fili had sobered up by now, but she was still drunk, begging and whining for Fili to fuck her harder, howling like a beaten cat. His stupid friend Edmund had put them together, saying that she was an artist and a free-spirit, right up Fili’s alley. Fili liked fucking artists, but in fifteen minutes and two glasses of rum, he quickly realised that she was a superficial private-school girl who only saw Fili as an oddity, a dwarf who looked mannish enough to tolerate and something to giggle about with her friends over tomorrow's brunch. Someone with more integrity would have stopped short of bringing her back to their flat. Maybe Fili would on some other night, too, but he didn’t really want to stay out any later. He was tired and out of money, and when they started doing coke in the bathroom Fili knew he had to avoid the temptation, fingering the five-year chip in his pocket until he was afraid of rubbing the engraving off.

It was still going. Fili pawed at one of her breasts, tired and frustrated, with none of his usual skill. What was the point? Anah had gripped his hand on the train, pressing it against her lips and saying oh, it was so _big_ compared to the rest of him, that he must have been hiding a monster in there and he had to be an animal in the sack. So Fili play acted at being boorish and clumsy, being the brainless oaf she wanted him to be. Maybe then, it would be over faster.

Finally, finally, she convulsed around him, drawing thin ribbons over his shoulder blades. Fili grunted, let himself go, and felt shame flood his insides while he emptied. The both of them lay there for a moment, entangled and sweating, hearts pounding and breath rasping. With a low groan, Fili rolled over and away from her, lying on one elbow as he reached for the cigarettes inside his discarded jacket.

“Ooh, can I have a light?" Her chest still heaving, Anah tried to look seductive, posing like a centerfold in a dirty magazine with one arm being her and a leg raised up. But it didn't really work— magazine girls were flawless, looked at but never touched, while Anah was a well-fucked mess. Her curls had turned tattered and ratty, one eye smeared, looking like she'd been punched, and her lipstick long gone. A giant paw had rubbed over her face, blending everything together and leaving something blurred and undefined. As though she could sense his disapproval,  Anah tried self consciously to arrange her ruined curls over her shoulders, flashing a smile.

“Go ahead.” Fili threw her the packet. He sat on the edge of the bed, dropping ash all over the floor with his hands clasped, draped over his knees. Faded blue eyes ringed slowly fell shut, his bare, lightly freckled shoulders heaving in a long, long sigh.

Anah left her number on his bathroom mirror in blood-red lipstick, signed with an x. Wearing his boxers and shivering in the chill, Fili stared at it, standing on his footstool and catching his reflection in the corner of his eye. Blonde curls hair grazed his shoulders, limp and dreary, sticky with sweat. He needed to eat something. He needed a shave. He needed to sleep for a week. Licking his finger, Fili rubbed the girl’s number out, leaving a shapeless smudge behind.

The rest of his flatmates were out. Fili padded silently through the house, poured himself a glass of cask wine out of habit, checked his phone, and went to bed. Half an hour before bed of quiet reflection was key to mental healing, his therapist insisted years ago. He sat up now with a magazine on his lap, rifling through the lurid photographs and tiny boxes of text. Everything grew blurry again, and he couldn’t take anything in.

An hour or so before dawn, Fili woke after a bad dream. He lay on his side, watching the red numbers of his alarm clock through the warped lens of his half-finished wine. Outside, he heard the distant boom of a stereo, the barking of a dog, distant engine rumbling and car-horns. It was a soothing melody, and his mind drifted, turning in lazy circles. He thought his surgical assessment in two weeks time, about Gertie’s seventy-third birthday in a few days, wondering if it was appropriate to get her anything, about the noisy fan belt on his car that needed replacing soon. He thought about how his mate Edwin had insisted last week the car was a piece of shit, and he’d be replacing the engine in six months anyway. He thought about his old Âvul which survived anything he threw at it for ten years, and for all Fili knew, could still be parked up in the compound parking lot. And that made him think about Kili.

Damn. Fili sighed and rolled over on his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. Temptation crept in his stomach and left his fingers itching, like the call for a cigarette. No -- he’d already checked that night, and Kili hadn’t called. Just like he checked it the night before, and the night before that, and every other night the last two weeks. Kili hadn’t called.  He tried to ignore the panic smoldering inside of him, tried to honestly believe that his brother was just pissed off (they ended their last conversation on an unusually heated argument),  or he'd lost his phone again, or he'd just simply forgotten to call.

But he never did. Every Sunday afternoon Kili would call him, and if he didn't hear anything by five,  Fili called, and he always got through. Always. As the days passed from one week into two, Fili grew increasingly unsettled, a general feeling of wrongness blanketing his head, leaving him restless and distracted. Once, he almost called Thorin. He dialed the number on his burner and stared at the screen for seven minutes at that familiar string of digits, head pricking from all the memories that were dragged along with it. But Fili didn't call, not yet. He wasn't that desperate.

Fuck it.  Mechanically,  Fili got out of bed and pulled the cheap plastic phone from his hiding place under the bed.  He paced while waiting for it to turn on, kicking aside dirty clothes and cigarette butts and loose pieces of paper.

_1 voice message._

Fili's heart leaped into his throat, the breath leaving him as every tense muscle sagged in relief. Only one person in the world had this number. The stupid shit, he was probably giving Fili the silent treatment and got too drunk in the night. Idiot, of course it was Kili just being a brat, why would he expect any less--

"Fili?" Kili’s broken gasp rang through the plastic. Fili sank slowly on the edge of the bed as joy plummeted into crushing terror. “Fili, please, please pick up the phone if you're there.  Please."

He made an involuntary noise in his throat, listening to his baby brother's voice. "I-I'm so scared, Fili. I c-can't... I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I-I don’t know anything. I was _stupid_ , so stupid. Please—They’ll be back any moment. I can’t let them know I called.” Kili was crying. “Thorin w-won’t come for me, I know it. I messed things up so bad with him, Fili. So bad. I-It’s a gang of orcs– I don’t know wh-who anyone is, th-they won’t use names around me. There’s a white w-warg’s head on their jackets, it’s all I know. I had a p-pound of crystal and they took it. They wanted to know where the rest was and— they hurt me, Fili. It hurt so much. I don’t know what they’ll d-do now and I'm—I’m so scared. I know you didn’t want to ever come back but please, _please_.  Please – help me.” There was a sharp cry, a click, and then the message died.

There wasn't time to think. Fili didn't give himself the luxury of sitting down and crying, or being angry or scared. He emptied his backpack of all his university notes, throwing in everything at hand. Pushed in the corner of his mirror was the old picture of his family, all that he had left of home after he walked out with just the clothes on his back and a wallet in his pocket. Everything else had worn through years ago, but this photo remained. Fili picked it up now, staring at the faded image of a young family. Two blonde, two dark, mother, father, two little boys. It looked so utterly ordinary, you only could really tell something wasn't quite right if you studied the patch on his father's leather jacket, or the leather holster on his mother's hip, just visible beneath her creeping shirt as she hefted Kili in her toned arms.

He was on the road before dawn. Fili rung up the agency and left a message saying he needed to take unpaid leave, effective immediately, scrawled a note on the fridge for his flatmates and left his regular phone on his bedside table, switched off. As he took the highway out of town and headed east, the sun broke over the horizon, right in his eyes. The city behind him was swallowed up and Fili kept on driving towards the sun, towards the east, towards what for so long had been home.

After about an hour past the Edoras city limits, Fili had to pull over. Just up ahead was the north-east turnoff, listing several main destinations in that part of the world; Dale, presiding at the foothills of some mouldy old dwarvish ruins, Dafinîn in the heart of the Iron Hills, and Khamûlor, the vast eastern capital on the shores of Rhûn. His mouth was dry. He could feel the pressure rising, and with a short sharp little gasp, it all came out. Fili rested his forehead against the steering wheel as he cried. It was such a massive, ugly step backward, Fili cried out of fear as much as he did grief and anger. He was afraid of Thorin, afraid of how he would be received after the heartless way he left.

Fili had been relieved as well as sad, thinking there was nothing that would drag him back to that awful hell-hole. He thought he was done with that part of the world forever. Of course, it was Kili that brought him back. Fucking Kili. The terror doubled in his heart, and he gripped the steering wheel, as though he were suspended over a steep precipice and afraid for his life. He was afraid for Kili, that he would be too late and they’d find his body at the bottom of a river or in a shallow roadside grave. He wasn’t a ransom -- they’d have given Thorin a finger or ear by now if he was. Whoever this upstart gang was, they wanted to keep Kili, at least until his usefulness ran out.

When his eyes dried, Fili leaned back, wiping at his damp face. He felt deflated and hollow, a sensation that didn’t feel any better than that cascading horror. Through half-lidded eyes, Fili stared out at the grey ribbon of road, disappearing over the horizon with no end in sight, the thin rim of mountains just barely visible in the haze of early morning sun. Another car roared past, gleaming in the sunlight.

Every second he sat here, crying like a baby and feeling scared was another second where Kili was held captive. The thought brought Fili back into reality. He sat up and brought his car to life, pulling back into the highway and staying in the left lane.

* * *

Driving hundreds and hundreds of miles gave Fili the last thing he wanted just then -- time to think. Fili had filled his life to overflowing with his job, study, volunteer work, friends and girlfriends. Unlike Kili, who could spend hours at a time sitting on the balcony with a beer on his hand, just staring out across the fields and claiming he wasn’t thinking about anything, Fili always needed to be busy. He hated being alone with his head -- he liked to just charge on, to move from one task to the next without stopping and thinking. Hard-working, his boss called him, said it must have been a dwarvish thing. She hadn’t met many dwarves.

He blared the radio, trying to sing along and distract himself, until it faded into static, sometime around the early afternoon. Fili didn’t bring any tapes with him, there were just a handful in the glovebox. One was busted, spilling tiny ribbons of film all over his fingers as he rifled through the mess. Another was a mix Ella had made for him, one he’d forgotten about. He saw it, turned it over in his hands, and put it away. Not yet. He played the remaining three, over and over while the radio was dead, stopping occasionally for petrol and coffee, until it was late at night. There was a one-road town, about two hundred miles out of Khamûlor, a neon hotel sign and a front office that still looked open. Fili paid for the cheapest room available, a small single studio, and collapsed on the bed fully-dressed. He was too tired to dream. That was a mercy.

Fili drank his first coffee of the day - horrid, watery stuff from the front reception - on the hood of his car with a tasteless, rubbery pastry wrapped in plastic and a cigarette. A few others milled about, having breakfast and arguing with the hotel owner over the bill.  Fili watched them through the window. An orcish couple with three screaming kids, a small handful of freshmen from a university in Khamûlor, two bikers, who stood in the corner and muttered to themselves, and a lone elderly dwarf. Fili nodded at the dwarf as he stepped out in the parking lot, half-heartedly lifting a hand in greeting. The dwarf didn’t smile back.

He was on the road again before nine, turning north at the shore, towards the Iron Hills and Dale. Unlike the razor-straight highway that cut across plains and hills between Edoras and Khamûlor, the northern two-lane road wound along the coast, dotted with little fishing villages. Behind him, the massive city, thought to be the biggest in the whole world, belched thick, grey smoke in the sky. Four hundred and fifty miles to go.

Just before noon, about ten miles after he turned onto the four-lane highway that opened across the plains and pastures, Fili came across a hitchhiker. It was a girl, couldn’t have been older than eighteen or nineteen, walking on the side of the road with her thumb out. She wore a sleeveless light blue shirt, and denim shorts, a backpack slung over one shoulder and canvas shoes with mismatching ankle socks. Waist-length hair was pulled back in a single braid, dark and glossy as wet chestnuts. It was so out-of-place amongst the dust and grit of the road. Without thinking, Fili pulled over, leaning across the passenger window. “Need a ride?”

She stood outside the car with one hand on her backpack, the other on her hip. “Where are you going?” Her eyes were wide and dark.

“Shulkahar.” Fili answered. “Near where you need to be?”

She chewed her lip. “I’m going to Shulkahar.” She looked up and down the empty highway, studying Fili’s face, his broken-down car, obviously weighing up the chance and danger in her mind.

“I’m not affiliated.” Fili tried to assure her. “No funny business, I promise you.”

“That’s exactly what they would say.” But she opened the car door all the same. Halfway in, she saw Fili’s booster seat, and froze. “Oh!” She blinked. “You’re a dwarf.”

“That a problem?” She slung her backpack at her feet, shaking her head.

“No, it’s just— you don’t look like one. Not at first.” She broke into a smile, seeming a little more calm. “I’m Sigrid.”

“Sigrid.” He repeated, holding out his hand. “Good to meet you. I’m Fili.”

Sigrid was quiet as he pulled back onto the road. She leaned her head on a flattened palm, staring out.

“So, er,” Fili tried to start conversation. “Why on earth were you trying to hitch all the way up to Shulkahar? They’ve found bodies along this road, you know. Dozens of ‘em.”

“I know.” Sigrid murmured. “But I missed my connecting bus north, and I couldn’t afford an extra ticket.”

“So you thought you’d risk it?”

She shrugged. “I’m not afraid.” Sigrid looked over at Fili, eyeing his clean jeans and button-down shirt, the faded brown coat slung over the backseat. “But why are _you_ going? You don’t look like the type with business in a town like mine.”

“Well,” Fili kept his eyes on the road. “I got family.”

“Oh, so you’re popping up for a visit?” Fili swallowed hard, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Something like that.”

Fili kept the conversation intentionally light, asking about his hometown— who was running it now, if old Morris still had his store on the corner of first and west, if the farm with the petting zoo on the outskirts was still running, any goings-on that he may have missed. Sigrid responded in kind, the both of them sizing one another up, carefully testing each other, and wordlessly agreeing the other was all right.

They stopped at a greasy truck stop around one, buying gristly mince pies and cheap filtered coffee. Sigrid used a payphone to call somebody, a quiet conversation that turned into a sharp argument, and she abruptly hung up. “Brothers.” She muttered as she returned to the remains of her coffee.

“So what were you doing down in Khamûlor? At least, that’s where I assume you were.” When they were back in the car, Fili tried to strike up fresh conversation. Sigrid looked quite hard at him, rolling the question around in her head. “Did you have school?”

“I don’t go to school.” She fiddled with the thick string of bracelets on her wrist, all woven ropey things made from thread and beads. “I was… visiting my dad.” Fili stared at her wrist too, noticing in amongst the handwoven jewellery a ribbon-thin plastic band, stamped with a string of numbers and a barcode. Oh.

“South Central Correctional, huh?” Sigrid’s head whipped up. “I served eighteen months a while back.”

She paused. “What did you do?” It was sharp, accusatory. Fili’s eyes strayed from the road for a moment.

“Stupid, really. My brother and I got in a fight outside a bar over on West Avenue. Police came to break it up, my brother got rowdy with them, I had to back him up…” He sighed. “Really, really stupid.”

Sigrid looked him up and down, a frown knitting her eyebrows. She didn’t shape or pluck them, they were thick, almost severe, framing her wide eyes, but she suited it. Fili caught himself staring and returned his gaze very deliberately to the road. “Dad was framed.” Sigrid kicked off her shoes and socks, and put her feet up on the dashboard. Her nails were painted red, a little wobbly around the cuticle, as though a child had done it. “I know that’s what you’d expect anyone to say, but he really was. His defense lawyer made him take a plea bargain, said there wasn’t evidence to prove his innocence in court, and it was better to just take a manslaughter sentence than gamble between freedom and life imprisonment.” Her mouth was a thin, pink line.

“Can you tell me what they said he did?” Sigrid sighed in the passenger’s, squirming around a bit and trying to get comfortable. “You don’t have to.”

“Oh, Hell, it’s not a secret. They said he shot someone. A neighbour. It was eighteen months ago, he’ll be out in six years.” She fiddled with the plastic ID bracelet again, trying to tear it off. “With good behaviour.”

“The parole board is pretty lenient with first offenders.” Fili tried to sound encouraging. “As long as he keeps his nose clean and does the rehab paperwork, they’ll let him out.”

“Does it ever work? The rehabilitation courses, I mean.” Fili reached into his jean pocket, and pulled out his five-year chip, holding it up for her to see for a moment before stowing it away again.

“Worked for me.” His voice softened. “Not my brother, though.” Fili chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking of something else to say. “So… You live at home then? Who looks after you? Your mother, or…”

“Nobody looks after me.” Sigrid crossed her ankles. “Mum died when my little sister was a baby. Dad worked all the time, trying to make sure we had enough, so I s’pose I always looked after myself, in a way.” She shrugged. “My Grandma moved in just after Dad got charged, but she had to go into a rest home about six months ago. It’s not so bad. Before Dad went away, he managed to get the bank to remortgage the house, so I can afford the payments. I work at a gas station, and Grandma gives us most of her pension. We’re happy.”

“You don’t want to move away? Why not sell the house and buy an apartment in Khamûlor so you’re close to your dad, or go more north to a better city?” Sigrid wrinkled her nose at Fili’s suggestion.

“Because it’s _home._ The kids have school and friends, and I have a pretty cruisy job, all things considered.  My case manager at social services is an old friend of Mum’s, she makes sure my inspections are always signed off. Running away, it wouldn’t solve anything.” She challenged him, sitting up now with her legs crossed beneath her. Fili kept one eye on her and one eye on the road, feeling a little lost for words. Guilt was stirring at her words, touching a nerve.

“If you didn’t have family— or if they were old enough to take care of themselves, do you think you would still stay?” Fili was gripping the steering wheel again, unusually tense.

Sigrid brushed the hair back from her face. “That’s what you did, isn’t it.” She sat sideways in the seat, cheek pressed against the headrest. “You ran away.”

“I did.” Fili swallowed hard. “I had to, for myself. My brother was old enough to look after himself, and I didn’t have any other family, so I thought I could make a clean break.”

“So why are you coming back?”

Fili’s mouth was trembling. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to hold himself together as the guilt multiplied, burning in his gut like cheap whiskey. “I was wrong about my brother being able to look after himself.”

There was another awkward silence. Sigrid fiddled with the radio, trying to pull in a station and getting nowhere. “Tapes are in the glovebox.” Fili suggested.

“Oh, I see. Ugh, really? My _Dad_ likes this stuff. Don’t you have anything better?” Sigrid rifled through the bits and pieces, old receipts, lottery tickets, bills, insurance information, finding Ella’s mix at the back. “What about this?”

“Um, an old girlfriend made it for me.” Sigrid read the short note on the back. “I’ve been meaning to throw it out.”

“‘To remind you of the night we met’. When was that?”

“A four-day music festival in Fangorn, about three years ago. Her name was Ella, she was half-elf, half-orc of all things. Yeah, weird I know.” Fili noticed her open-mouthed stare. “Her parents were… very, very ahead of their time. Apparently orcs and elves are the most genetically similar of all the races, even more than elves and men. Something about their ears and bone structure, I can’t remember exactly. Anyway, I bumped into her halfway through Diamond Veil’s set and spilled her beer.” He smiled at the memory. “She insisted I buy her another, and then we got to talking and…”

“I love Diamond Veil!” Sigrid beamed. “Can I play it?”

“Um…” Fili looked over at her smiling face, wanting to say no, wanting to say that he didn't think he could listen to anything on that tape without feeling all ripped up inside. But he kept looking at her smile, almost drifting off the road. With a start, he nodded. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“So, what happened?” More comfortable now, Sigrid stretched out her legs, getting some sun as the music started up. “You said old. Did it not work out?”

“Mm, no.” Fili stared very determinedly at the road now. “We were together for a few years. We were going to get married and everything, but, no, it didn’t work out in the end. I loved her to bits, but um… I wanted to stay clean and… she didn’t.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sigrid murmured unhelpfully. Neither of them could think of anything to say, so they fell into a steady, pensive silence. Fili listened to the music, the years falling away with the minutes that passed, the miles they travelled along the endless highway. Listening to Diamond Veil, to Long Gone and Ripcord Morality and all these rabid, drug-fuelled, guitar-squealing artists, it was like listening to old friends again, talking shit in the garage of in the back yard over cans of bourbon and cheap beer. There was a tinge of nostalgia to it, and the longer Fili listened, the more he realised he’d outgrown it. And in that realisation, he didn’t feel quite as sad to listen to it all again as he thought he would.

The sun beat down on them and there was no air conditioning, so they opened the windows, hair blown about and loose papers fluttering. Chatting casually, Sigrid rested her head on her arm, propped up on the open window, squinting a little through the dust. Fili had a cigarette. The land began to grow familiar. The rolling hills, bleached in the autumn sun, the thin, ribbon of the river that wound closer at times and arched further away, the ramshackle little farmsteads, the paddocks dotted with a few sheep and horses. It was picturesque, in its rusticity, simplicity, in just how steady and plain it all was. So much potential for tranquility and bliss, Fili wondered just how it all went so wrong.

“So, what school did you go to before you left?” It seemed almost inappropriate to ask. Sigrid smiled again.

“Katûb-zahar. It was the one in my district, so yeah, I know all about you dwarves.” The radio had come back and she fiddled with it again. “Ugh, I hate this song.”

“That’s where I went for a few years. Tell me, is old Styrr still the headmaster there? He _hated_ my brother and I, said we were the ruin of the school. I managed to stick on till the end, but after I graduated, Kili just went completely out of control. He was expelled within a year.” That should have been the first sign that Kili didn’t exactly get along fine without him. Fili’s nostalgic smile faded.

“Yes! He’s as grumpy as ever. My brother’s fifteen and he’s still there. Styrr is _horrible_ about him, I keep getting called in.” Sigrid sat up straight, intentionally furrowing her brow. “Miss, we simply _must_ do something about Bain. We don’t _condone_ his disruptive behaviour at our fine establishment. You must be mindful of your _influence_ on such an _impressionable_ young man.” She put on her best impression of the old headmaster, breaking into giggles. “He used to always catch me behind the bike-sheds with the girls back in the day, trying to light cigarettes, and he was convinced that it was _my_ fault Bain was always acting out.” She sighed. “Old git.”

“Is your brother having problems in school?” Fili looked over at her. Sigrid had gone quiet now, staring across the fields.

“He’s fifteen, of course he’s having problems.” She shrugged. “Dad going away, that shook him up. His faith in the justice system is completely broken, and he’s just… he’s very angry, a lot of the time. He wants to visit Dad, but he said not until Bain’s sixteen. His friends are all right, so it’s not like he’s in a bad crowd or anything. His head just isn’t in a good place at the moment.” She scratched her knee. “I’m not worried about him, not yet.” But there was an air of finality in her voice and Fili realised it was best to leave it.

They kept on driving. Sigrid grew bored, and started playing around with loose scraps of paper. There were dozens of receipts floating around, mainly for fast food and cigarettes, and she gathered them all up, folding them and lining them all up on his cracked dashboard. They were tiny paper stars, the size and shape of big plastic beads that children wore. Fili stared at them.

“They’re pretty.” He commented. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“A girl in school taught me.” Sigrid kept her eyes on her hands. “Oh— you don’t mind, do you? I hope you weren’t saving them.”

Fili laughed. “No, it’s fine.” Sigrid smiled again, one of those wide smiles that made her face light up. She smiled a lot.

“So, what do you do with yourself down wherever you live now?” She folded the last star and put it on top of the little pile she had made.

“I live in Edoras.” Fili spoke without hesitation, without considering the consequences. In his mind, the city was still plenty big enough to get lost in. “I’m at university, actually, just started my final semester. I’m studying to be a nurse.”

“Oh, _cool!”_ Sigrid lit up again. “Where, like in a rest home, or a hospital, or in the army?”

Fili laughed again. “Definitely not the army. I work in sort of a rest home now. I go to the houses of old folks that live on their own and help them out with getting showered and dressed and stuff. It’s not strictly medical, but… I like it. I like helping them and they’re usually quite lovely. It’s better than a hospital in a lot of ways. I did a placement for a few months at the start of the year in one of the bigger ones in Edoras, it was pretty awful. Sure, you got to see more, but what you did see, it was depressing, in a lot of ways.”

“It would be.” She stared at him, spitting a few loose strands of hair out of her mouth. “I hate the hospital.”

“I like the folks I work for. The agency is good, gives me more work when I ask for it and less when I have exams.” Fili fell silent for a moment as the green sign came into view. Shulkahar, fifty miles. His hands went tight again and he dipped his head in a brief moment of panic. “Shit, we’re close.”

“You all right?” Sigrid leaned forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. Fili caught his breath and nodded, looking a little pale. “Tell me more about Edoras, about what you do.”

“Um, I volunteer— can you get me a smoke, please? Thanks.” He accepted the lit cigarette, taking a heavy drag. It calmed him down, just a very little bit. “I volunteer at a youth centre every second Saturday. Just cleaning up, taking a couple of kids’ sports groups and stuff. I wanted to be a youth counsellor, you know, work in social services and that sort of stuff, but my criminal record was a big black mark against me.” Fili shrugged sadly. “I’ll get there in the end, with luck.”

Sigrid stared, looking thoughtful for a few quiet moments. “You’re guilty.” She brought one long leg up, winding her right arm around it. “You want to make up for the shitty stuff you did as a kid, so you’re trying to help as many people as you can.” Fili was doing that stiff, silent thing again, where he stared at the road, trying to ignore her. “I mean -- you have to realise that, right?”

“Of course I realise that.” When Fili finally spoke, his voice was short and tight, and he couldn’t look at her. “You’re right. I was a shitty person. I was a criminal and an addict. I accept that. I just worry that... if I’m doing all of this for the wrong reasons, like you said, just to try and absolve myself, then that doesn’t really make me a better person, does it?”

“Of course it does. You’re still doing something,” she pointed out. “As long as you’re not stuck-up about it, who cares about the reasons?” That coaxed a little smile out of him, and his tight grip relaxed a fraction. “Are you worried that’s what other people may think?”

“I know it’s what my grandfather and uncle will say, if I told them.” Fili tried to swallow the bitterness on his tongue. “They’re, um, quite big in the town, when it comes to green and crystal. They care about money, and building their empire. If they knew I ran away to be a nurse, they would either laugh at me or tell me to fuck off out the door again.”

“But you’re not back for them. You’re back for your brother.” Fili nodded. “Does he live with them?”

“Yeah. We both did, since our parents died when we were kids.” Fili’s voice wobbled. “Now he’s -- I don’t know where he is. He’s missing.”

Sigrid squeezed his arm again. “Oh, Fili, I’m so sorry. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

Fili shook his head. “He left me a message last night. It sounds like some sort of deal went wrong, and they nabbed him. He--” He stopped, almost swerving in an effort to maintain his brittle composure. “He doesn’t know where he is, or who took him. Just that they’re orcs, and their gang insignia is a white warg’s head. You work at a gas station, do you…”

“No, sorry.” She rested her hand on his arm, sympathetic. “I’ll ask around, and if I hear anything, I’ll let you know. I’m sure somebody has a name, or a hideout.”

“It might be an upstart gang, wanting to make waves.” Fili’s throat was burning. “And to send a message to Thorin, they’re gonna leave his body somewhere. It’s not a ransom, they wouldn’t keep him this long, if it was.”

“Thorin?” Sigrid drew back. “ _He’s_ your uncle? So that makes Thrain…”

“My grandfather, yes. You know them?”

“Everybody does. The Durins are tough as nails and the biggest suppliers in between here and the Iron Hills, nobody messes with them.” Fili’s lip curled. “Shit, I had no idea, Fili. Do you have any ideas who took your brother then? Is there anyone you have history with?”

“Who _don’t_ we have history with? Grandfather has a lot of enemies.” The vast, pastures were beginning to close in, the paddocks smaller, the houses slightly more frequent. “The Crows keep stepping on our borders, but they wouldn’t have the balls to touch the immediate family. The Grishnaak would have ten years ago, but they’re just racketeers now, no interest in drugs. The worst we ever had was Azog, years and years ago. Those turf wars wrecked us. Killed my parents, my uncle Frerin, my great-grandfather… Shit, you think if something was going to make my family turn, that’d be it. But Thorin got Azog almost twenty years ago now, raided their hideout, shot Azog point-blank and sent what was left of them out of town for good. They’re long gone.”

“Well, I hope you find answers.” Sigrid sounded rattled, but she held on to his arm again, and this time,  she didn’t let him go until they reached the city limits, passed through the old market gardens, the scattered factories, mostly shut down and abandoned now, and on the main drag. She gave him directions to one of the nicer neighbourhoods down by the river, a quiet cul-de-sac. It was late in the afternoon, the sun as dark as melted butter on the brown grass, long shadows stretching over the road. Fili drove with the windows wound up, staring at his old home. He knew that bar, that gun store, that barber, that temple…

“Well, thank you.” When he pulled up outside Sigrid’s house, she lingered. The car idled outside a pretty little two-bedroom cottage on a little patch of grass, starting to show signs of wear. One of the windows was boarded up and the paint was peeling the scrubby grass a little too long and the porch sagging. “I really, really owe you one, Fili. It was brilliant luck, wasn’t it?”

Fili nodded. “Brilliant luck.” He echoed, stomach feeling soft. “You, um, take care of yourself, Sigrid. And maybe I’ll see you around, before I go.”

“This isn’t a big town, I’m sure you will.” Sigrid shouldered her pack and opened the door. “I’ll be at the gas station all day tomorrow and the next, if you need to fuel up.” She leaned against the open door. “And… good luck with your brother, Fili. I hope you find him.”

Fili nodded, smiling through a lump in his throat. “Good luck with yours.” She closed the door, and he watched her open the lopsided gate, making her way to the door and pulling it open. He saw a little girl run out and grab Sigrid in a whirlwind hug, almost knocking her over. His small smile faded, and he put the car in gear, turning across the road, weaving his way through these more pleasant suburbs.

As Fili drove across town, he could feel that tension, that guilt and fear grow higher and higher. The smell of Sigrid lingered in the car, beneath the stale odour of cigarettes and petrol fumes, and her paper stars littered the dashboard, dancing from side to side as he turned the corners. He almost faltered, pulling over on the main road up on the north side, bringing his knees up and resting his forehead on them. His joints were aching after two days on the road, his throat dry, and for some reason, Fili felt very, very cold.

No— he had to do this. Fili lifted his head and tried to calm himself down, breathing slowly, in and out. It was just Uncle Thorin, and Grandfather, nothing to be afraid of. They were dwarves, just like him, and he wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was a grown-up, with his own life now, so completely removed from all of this nasty shit. He’d moved on, he’d beaten them. There was nothing they could do to hurt him anymore.

Fili reached out and picked up one of the pieces of folded paper. He turned it over and over in his hand, not really looking at it, just wanting something to do with his fingers. In his head, he rehearsed what he was going to say. He was going to be confident, outspoken, honest. He wasn’t going to apologise, he wasn’t going to beg. This was something he had been considering for six years, something he had almost fantasised about, but also thought was never, ever going to happen. When he was younger, he used to imagine hitting Thorin, shouting at him in an outpouring of grief and rage and pain. He used to imagine getting a gun, looking his uncle in the eye and hearing him plead for forgiveness, giving none of it as he pulled the trigger.

He’d moved beyond that, to a dead, dull sort of acceptance that he couldn’t ever get the sort of retribution that he thought he deserved, which was itself in many ways a form of closure. Fili didn’t feel red-hot with rage when he thought about his uncle, not like he did four or five years ago. But he was still afraid. That little inside of him was still terrified, and as Fili stared out along the busy road, to where he knew his family lived, half a mile beyond this row of squat, grey buildings, that fear had taken root and budded.

Leaving Kili behind was the most selfish decision he’d ever made. He thought all the time about the stupid, thoughtless, selfish things used to do, but for every broken-into house, for every smashed-up car and bloody nose and gunshot wound, nothing really came close to what he’d done to Kili, leaving him alone with their fucked-up family. But it wasn’t fair! Fili crushed the little star in a shaking fist. Kili didn’t want to change. He didn’t want to leave home, didn’t want to get clean, didn’t want to go straight. Fili tried and tried and tried, he did everything he thought he could, but nothing could convince Kili to turn away from the only life he had ever known.

For a while afterwards, Fili had wondered if he had been fair. He should have given Kili an ultimatum. He had wondered if he had told Kili, when he walked out to grab a few things from the corner store, that he wasn’t ever coming back, if his brother would have come too. He wondered for six months, until he finally had the nerve to call Kili, just Kili, on his cellphone, and after the screaming and swearing, when the two of them were able to talk to one another with civility, it became clear that Kili didn’t want to go.

Not any more. Fili straightened up in the car, feet finding the pedals. He was going to find Kili, _alive,_ and when he did, they were both getting the fuck out of here, whether Kili wanted it or not. He was going to save his brother from that gang, from their grandfather, from himself. But first, Fili had to talk to his family. He had to get help, get answers, because he knew he couldn’t do this on his own.

He was ready.


	2. Chapter 2

When Fili first left home, he didn’t know exactly where he was going. He just knew he wanted to get out, to go somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t here. Leaving, that was the major decision in his head. Details like when and how, they were just afterthoughts. He walked to the information centre in time to catch the overnight bus to Khamûlor, leaning against the window and watching the sky blacken and the world disappear behind a pane of dirty glass. Kili tried to call him seven times. He didn’t sleep. In the morning, Fili jacked a car from a CutPrice parking lot three streets away from the central bus stop, one eye in the rearview mirror, driving and driving until he was sure he wasn’t being followed.

He chose Edoras. Fili didn’t know much about the city - it was an old, industrial powerhouse, the capital of Rohan. There was money in the mines, and they produced a lot of things like luxury cars and computers and home appliances. Jobs were always going in Edoras, an old man proclaimed at a gas station on the southwestern highway through the Dagorland plains. Also, it was big enough to be lost in. Fili needed that. A hundred or so miles out, he drive the car onto a dusty, narrow side road. He waited until it was dusk before pouring kerosene all over the seats, the dashboard, in the bonnet, setting it alight and running, leaving the evidence of his theft to burn.

It was an effigy. Fili stood in the darkness and felt the heat on his face. Plastic melted and vinyl burned, clouds of toxic smoke spewing into the night air. He made a promise in the night that this stolen car would be the last crime he ever committed. No more running for the family, no more grisly clean-ups and bodies tied to chairs, no more quick fixes in dirty bathrooms. He was going clean, from that moment on, a cleansing of fire, and Fili stepped out a new person, in a new life. He left the rest behind.

* * *

The code at the compound had changed, but he banged on the gate until they let him in. They knew who he was. He was led inside by the arm, rifles swinging from shoulders. They didn’t trust him.

So now he waited. Fili sat on a low plastic chair, his backpack slung on the ground between his legs. There was no window in his room - just a single grimy bulb hanging from a chain. Thror - and Thrain - always loved having their dishonoured guests wait in here. It made them nervous.

He told himself to breathe. Keep his head up. There was a camera in the corner of the ceiling and he knew they would be looking at him, brows furrowed in concentration, trying to pick him apart, find a hole and tear through it, until he was shreds and scraps. Fili wasn’t going to give them the opportunity to that to him again. He was armoured, guarded.

All the same, he jumped as the door banged open. Dwalin’s broad figure loomed in the doorway, silhouetted in dusty, greyish light, filtered through bombproof screens and bulletproof glass. Fili stood up slowly and tried to keep his shoulders back and chin lifted. He tried to look unafraid. He wasn’t afraid.

Dwalin gave him a cursory glance up and down as he stepped into the room and grunted. “Arms out.” Fili started again, briefly looking up at the camera.

“Dwalin, I’m family.”

“Arms out.” They locked eyes now. Dwalin used to terrify Fili as a dwarrow, with his scarred face and missing chunk of his ear. He was rough, didn’t believe in coddling the two orphaned dwarrows. Nobody did. It was later, when Fili was old enough to drink and smoke with him, that he opened up a little more, cracked lewd jokes, taught Fili how to shoot with a rifle and count cards and inked his arm. Dwalin was an ally.

Fili looked at him now and saw no trace of that familiarity and kinship. Fili had soured it, he thought, when he left without warning, turning his back on the empire he was destined to one day lead. He kept his arms at his side, fingers thrust into the pockets of his worn jeans and a look of unsteady defiance on his face.

“Come on.” The dwarf loomed over Fili, the scarred bridge of his nose creasing in a snarl. “Don’t make me get the cuffs, Fili.” He would, too. He would strip-search Fili if he thought it was necessary. Dwalin’s mercilessness and fierce loyalty to the family put him right in that inner circle alongside father and son.

“Oh for goodness’ sake.” Fili growled, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart and stretching out his arms as Dwalin frisked him. Overhead, the grimy lightbulb flickered as Dwalin checked his back pockets, the inseam of his jeans, his ankles. Fili bore the humiliation silently, the bitter taste of nervousness building in his throat, spreading across his tongue. If Dwalin was cold to him, then Thorin was going to be white-hot with fury.

“Clean.” Dwalin grunted, turning away without another look and pulling open the heavy door. He pushed Fili inside, a hand clamped over his shoulder, holding him in place. Fili’s tense stomach grew impossibly tight now as he stood in his grandfather’s for the first time in six years.

It hadn’t changed, of course. It had been exactly the same for as long as Fili could remember. The same big wooden desk, the same two chairs, intentionally uncomfortable and too small, set before it, the same row of screened windows, the same massive safe on the right-hand wall. Fili took it all in, warbled and vague as an abstract painting, his gaze locked on the hunched figure in motorcycle leathers sitting at the desk, at the silhouette against the window, standing with his arms behind his back.

“Grandfather.” Fili croaked. Thrain lifted his head and Fili got a look at him in the light, grey and one-eyed, his mouth pursed in a scowl. Fili’s nails bit into his palms as he turned his gaze to the figure at the window. “Uncle Thorin.”

It was like being a child again, caught sneaking out or stealing, trembling and almost wetting himself in this exact same space. Fili watched, dry-mouthed, as Thorin walked around the desk and wordlessly beckoned him closer with a silent gesture. Keeping himself tall and erect, firm, unshakeable, Fili approached his uncle.

“Uncle, I—” Thorin cut him off with a stunning blow across the face, one that sent him crashing against the desk. Fili gasped and clutched at his cheek, sinking to his knees. He stared at Thorin’s boots, shaking from head to foot as his face throbbed and flushed. “Please, let me—” He broke off again with a cry as Thorin seized his shoulder-length curls in a thick golden handful, hauling him up so he could lean against the desk.

“Where have you been.” He spat. Scrabbling, Fili managed to get his elbows on the polished wood and hold himself up, trying desperately to keep quiet and not let a moan or whimper betray him. “What the _fuck_ are you doing, showing your face after all this time?” Thrain remained in his chair with that same scowl, watching his son deal to Fili in silence.

“Where have you _been?_ ” Thorin repeated when he didn’t get an answer, his grip tightening on Filis hair. “Who have you been working for? Who sent you back?” He looked over Fili’s hunched figure at Dwalin, waiting by the door with crossed arms.

“No weapons, no wires, no drugs. Clean.” He reported briskly. Thorin stared down at Fili with that quiet, restrained hatred, a muscle twitching in his throat.

“N-No one sent me.” Fili stammered. “I w-went straight, Uncle. I’ve been in university.” Thorin snorted with derision, yanking at his hair and pulling his neck back at a painful angle so he could look him in the eye.

“University.” He repeated flatly. Fili couldn’t even nod, stretched and pulled. “What do you want, then? Money? Protection?”

“N-Nothing. I w-want nothing.” Fili stumbled over his words like a terrified child. “I-I heard Kili was—”

“Kili?” Thorin tightened his hold, Fili’s neck burning with pain. “He’s done. If that little shit ever comes near us again, I’ll rip his lungs out with a crowbar.” Fili’s breath caught in his throat. “He is _dead_ to us.”

“What did he do?” Fili whispered, horror growing. He’d hoped that Kili was exaggerating in his desperate phone call or he’d misunderstood, when he said Thorin wouldn’t come for him.

“I caught him selling _our_ product to fucking _orcs_ , that’s what he did.” Thorin let him go now, Fili leaning heavily against the desk, struggling to regain his footing. “He’s been doing it for months, taking from our supply and selling to an upstart gang who call themselves the White Wargs on the western side.” Thorin spat on the floor. “Two-faced filth.”

“Kili wouldn’t do that.” He protested, mind racing. Finally, he stood on two shaky feet, his scalp burning and side of his face flushed bright red. “Uncle, he loves this family more than anything! He’d never—”

“Don’t for a moment think you know us.” Thorin jabbed a finger in Fili’s chest. “And don’t call me that. You don’t have the _right._ ”

“Thorin.” Fili started to panic. “He called me. The gang, the one you think he’s selling to, they’ve locked him up, they’re _torturing_ him, he’s a prisoner. We need to help him.”

“So you go swanning off for six _years_ and you come back and expect us to not only listen to you but help you? Do you think you know the situation better than me? Do you know how to run this business? Do you, Fili?” He remained silent and unmoving. It was better not to give him an answer. “You always thought you were too good for us.” Thorin growled. “Always sassing and undermining me, thinking you knew best. You and your brother, you are _nothing_ to us, you hear?”

He tried one last time. “Listen to me, you’ve made a mistake—”

“I never make mistakes.” Fili fell silent at that, biting hard on his lip. He knew he’d lost. “Get out. Get out of this town and don’t come back. Go back to whatever shithole you crept out of. If you show your face around here again, I’ll beat it into the pavement. Understand?”

Fili shook. “But Kili—”

“ _Kili_ crossed me.” Thrain finally spoke up from his desk, his voice weathered and grey. “I don’t save traitors.”

“I can’t just—”

“Leave, Fili, before you do something you can’t take back.” Fili stared from one to the other, helpless. “For your mother’s sake, I’ll let you go.” Thrain wheezed, as though speaking wore him out in his old age. “But I won’t be merciful again.”

Dwalin had his arm. “Come on, boy.” His grip was as cold, hard and unforgiving as steel.

“I’m not leaving without Kili.” He promised. “I won’t rest until I find him, even if you won’t help me.” Fili dragged his heels as Dwalin hauled him along. “I’m going to to find him!”

“Shut your _mouth_ , will you?” Dwalin rumbled into his ear as he slammed the door closed. “Do you want Thorin to change his mind?”

“I am not leaving without him. I’m not.” Fili refused to back down. “You don’t want to help me, then fine. Thorin won’t bump me off for trying to track down my brother if I don’t get in his way.”

“ _Listen.”_ Dwalin had Fili backed up against the wall in the grey little cell. “Things have changed since you were here last. Kili got caught up in some shit he never should have touched. You’re not going to find him, and even if you do, what is one person gonna do? The best thing you can do is get out of here and go back to pretending none of this ever existed.”

“And leave Kili to die?” Fili tried to wriggle free, but Dwalin had him pinned. “Come on, Dwalin.”

“I’m warning you. Don’t get tangled up in this. Leave.” His eyes briefly flickered up to the camera. “Leave before it’s too late.”

Fili smoked two cigarettes in the car with the windows rolled up, not trusting himself to drive.  It went largely as expected - Fili knew Thorin would rough him up, shout at him and threaten him. But he never expected to hear that about Kili. Dealing to orcs - it was impossible. Kili was always quick to make a buck, but he had morals. He wasn't a sellout.

 _Leave now_. Dwalin's threat echoed in his mind. He sounded serious, and Fili saw that glint in his eye, the glance upwards at the camera.  Something else was going on, something Thorin wouldn't tell him, something that Kili had been caught up in. Fili leaned against the window and watched a pickup drive past, red paint peeling and the bumper caked in rust. Things have changed. What did that mean? Were others stepping on their territory? Was Thrain's iron grip on the town starting to slip?

He needed to find out what was happening from somebody who didn't consider him an enemy, who had his ear to the ground and seemed to be two steps ahead of the rest of the crowd.

He needed to talk to Nori.

* * *

Even though the food was filling and the beer cheap, Fili had always avoided going to Dori’s place. To him, it was a picture of decline, and embodied this grimy and crumbling town. Eighty years ago, it was the gilded heart of a bustling main street, a five-star restaurant of expensive imported furniture and Dorwinion’s finest vintages. The _Laurëa Orva_ was the place to see and be seen, Thrain reminisced from his youth. As time wore on and the factories shut down, people lost their jobs and a couple of wars rooted out the fit young males, the town suffered.

Dori clung to his excess, but the world changed around him and to survive, his accountants bullied him into refurbishment. _Laurëa Orva_ became _Arsâna_ , a mid-level bistro, and then finally, ten years ago, just _Dori’s_ , a somewhat dingy diner with tacky prints from magazines on the walls and stained vinyl booths. The only lingering artefact of Dori’s former greatness was a framed black-and-white signed photo from the old post by the cash register. The now-retired vixen Aranal Caladwen posed in one of the teak chairs in a gleaming sequined gown, a cocktail in one hand, Dori standing behind her in an immaculate tuxedo.

It was the dinner rush, or what was a rush nowadays. Half the tables were occupied, mostly families of dwarves and a few men, kids taking out girls from school they liked and sharing baskets of fries. Fili lingered uncomfortably by the doorway until one of the waitresses approached him, smiling and unaware, having no idea who Fili was.

“Welcome to Dori’s, table for one?” There was a small mole on her cheek, a few freckles that she tried to cover in makeup. She clutched one of the menus, splashed with pictures of the food, deep-fried and gleaming with grease. Fili hadn’t eaten since his truck-stop lunch with Sigrid, and the sight and smell of burgers and fried fish and slabs of steak made him ravenous.

“Please. And if it’s no trouble, can you please tell Dori—”

“Oh, no!” But Dori had already found him. “Out!” The waitress gasped.

“Dori! I need to—”

“I don’t want any trouble.” He was firm, trying to keep his voice low, but failing. “Your lot have caused enough mischief around here.” The poor girl stood with the menu held over her mouth, eyes wide.

“I’ve always been welcome. Come on, I haven’t done anything.” Dori was scowling at him, with a genuine _hatred_ that Fili had never seen before. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Don’t play that act. I don’t care where you’ve been, Fili, but you’re not dragging that muck back in here. Leave.”

“I need to speak to Nori.” Fili begged. “Can you just tell me where he’s staying? Just give me a number and I’ll leave.”

“You’ve given Nori enough grief in the last year. _Out.”_ But Fili wouldn’t move. “Don’t make me call the police.”

“What’s going on?” Fili cried out. The tables near him fell silent, necks craning. “What _happened_ to this place since I’ve been gone?” Dori froze. “I just want to find my brother. _Please_ , I need to talk to Nori.”

Dori stared around at the scene Fili was making, that scowl deepening. “Margy, go clear table five and take their drinks.”

“Yes, Dori.” She squeaked and fled, still hiding her mouth. Dori maintained his cold stare, his jaw thrust out.

“What are you doing back here, Fili.” The old dwarf spat the words at him, knuckles whitened in clenched fists.

“I got a phone call from Kili.” Fili spoke as quickly as he could. “He’s in trouble and I want to find him—”

Dori scoffed. “Kili’s in trouble. There’s a surprise.” Fili didn’t think it was possible, but Dori’s expression grew even darker. “He pissed off a _lot_ of people, Fili.”

“What happened? What’s this about…” Fili lowered his voice. “About him _selling_ to some orcs?”

“No talk like that in my establishment.” Dori warned. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. I don’t let Nori’s mud get on my shoes.”

“I need answers. Thorin - he threw me out and told me to get out of town. I promise, I’m not involved with the family anymore. I just want to find my little brother.”

That hard look softened half a grade. “Look – go sit down and I’ll call Nori.” Fili sagged with relief. “I’ll get you a burger and a coffee. You look awful.”

“Thanks.” Fili mumbled, not wanting to sound _too_ sarcastic and push Dori’s begrudging hospitality. He shuffled into the nearest empty lowbooth and sat with his head in his hands, feeling exhausted. Outside the sky was purple and grey, well into evening. Dori brought him coffee, strong and black the way Fili liked it. “He said he’ll get here when he can, has to finish up a job.” Fili clung to the enamel mug, staring at the swirling dots of foam the colour of burnt sugar floating in the black, the rising steam.

He checked his phone, knowing that there would be no messages, but feeling disappointed all the same. Fili scoured the drinks menu while he waited, read the label on the back of the tomato sauce bottle. Margy finally brought him his burger, half a pound of ground beef and two slices of cheese sandwiched between a crispy bun. The fries gleamed with fat and salt. Fili took two mouthfuls and realised he was too tense and nervous to properly eat. He abandoned the burger but picked at his fries until they grew cold, leaning on an upturned palm. Margy cautiously brought him a couple of old magazines about sports and hunting, the covers bubbled with spilt sauce and beer and he flicked through the pages while he waited, not taking anything in. The urge to smoke started to pull in his stomach, fingers itching, but Fili forced it back, not moving from this spot. Dori refilled his mug twice.

Around nine, the crowd began to turn. The families filtered out and groups of teenagers poured out of their parents’ borrowed station wagons, abusing Dori’s bottomless coffee and trying to buy beer. Fili ached as he watched them - not with a nostalgic remembrance of times gone past, but an ache for something he never had. He was already too busy with the family that age, running deals and acting as muscle, getting a feel of ‘the ground’, before taking on the responsibilities of the inner circle.  He didn't get that innocence.

Most of the waitresses left. The kitchen went dark and empty and the music disappeared. It was only Dori and one woman, clearing away empty plates and serving drinks to the last lingering tables. Dori took his abandoned burger and shot him a filthy look. Guilty, Fili bought ordered a bottle of _barzul_ , the beer most dwarves drank around here,to try and take the edge of his growing jitters exacerbated by cup after cup of strong coffee. It was a bitter, gingery sort of ale that Fili drank slowly, peeling off the label and tearing it into tiny strips.

Nori finally arrived as the last customer of the night was paying his bill. Fili stood up, heart in his throat as the familiar dwarf clomped into the diner. There was a new scar on his left eyesocket, severing his heavy red brow in two, but Nori was otherwise the same, the same showy braids and dragonskin boots and thick gold chain and black leather jacket without any gang patch or insignia.

“Fili.” There was a tenseness in his face, a twist of his mouth. He greeted the dwarf with a clap on the shoulder, giving his brother a brief look across the room a nearly-imperceptible nod of his head. “It’s been too long. How have you been keeping?”

“I’m all right.” Fili sat opposite him, pushing the empty beer bottle away and pressing his hands on the varnish. “What about you? What’s going on?”

Nori chewed on the inside of his cheek and lifted his hand. “Dori, give us a couple, will you?” He leaned forward, with his shoulders hunched over. “Who have you talked to?”

“Nobody.” Fili kept his own voice low. “I went to see Thorin, but he didn’t say much. Just shoved me around a lot.” He touched the side of his face. “He said Kili was selling to a new gang, the White Wargs, but that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Ugh, the stupid kid. He _was_. I don’t think _he_ knew, but one of the Wargs was busted with crystal that was definitely Durin cooked. No one else can get Silm-level around here like Balin. The bloke’s a frigging genius.”

“Tell me everything you know.” Fili accepted the beer from Dori with a nod.

“Eight dollars.” Dori held out his hand. “Pay up, Nori.”

“What, no family discount?” Nori grumbled, but slapped a tenner on the table. “Keep the change.”

“How generous.” The grumpy old dwarf drawled. “Angie and I will be locking up in fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll clear out. Leave us alone.” Nori shooed him away and got back down to business. “OK. So, he— wait.” Nori frowned. “How _did_ you find out about this? Did Kili get in touch?”

“You tell your story, then I’ll tell mine.” Fili took a deep swig of his beer.

“All right. I only know what’s on the street, maybe a little bit more.” Nori winked, despite himself. “Turns out Kili was selling by the pound to some dealer, real small-time, some orc who called himself Dumûl. No doubt a handle. Anyway, this had been going on for ages, a few months. You know the orcs won’t have anything to do with the Durins after the shit that went down with Azog, so it took Thorin a while to realise that they were selling and smoking crystal that had definitely come from his lab. He dug around, and turned out Balin thought Thorin gave Kili the OK to take a pound every week or so for sale. Thrain’s grandson, you know, of course you can trust him.”

“Of course.” Fili muttered, the beer churning in his gut. Two tables over, Dori was wiping down the tables and stacking chairs, trying not to look like he was eavesdropping. “You can trust family.”

“Word is, Thorin and Thrain both lost their shit. Kili had taken a pound the day before, and he was no doubt off to sell it. Thorin called him up, said he knew all about Kili’s deals with the Wargs and if Kili didn’t come back with the crystal, he was dead to the family.” Nori shrugged. “Kili didn’t come back.”

“Oh shit.” Fili pressed his hands against his face. “Oh, _shit_ , Nori.”

“The kid will be long gone, probably in Khamûlor or Dafinîn, lying low and hoping Thorin never finds him. Thorin said he wouldn’t punish Kili if he came home, but who the hell’s gonna believe him? He probably would have cracked Kili’s kneecaps. I would, if I were him.” Fili guzzled a third of the bottle in one go, head spinning. He saw it all now. Kili would have figured out what he was unwittingly doing, and instead of just coming home and explaining his mistake, he would have tried to make it right by his uncle and confronted the Wargs alone. _Fuck._

Nori was watching him carefully. “Kili _has_ been in touch.” Fili licked his lips and pulled out his cellphone, bringing up Kili’s voicemail message and handing Nori the phone. With a little, thoughtful frown, Nori listened. His notched eyebrows grew closer and closer together until they met in the middle, biting down hard on the tip of his tongue.

“Shit.” Nori put the phone down with a soft _click_ and drained his beer. “I was hoping it wasn’t that.” Fili dragged a clenched fist over his eyes. “Shit Fili, I’m sorry.”

“He’ll be at their hideout.” Fili was picking at the label again. “I have to find out where they’re keeping him, how I can get in-”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up.” Nori held his hands up. “What are you going to do, storm down the front doors? Mahal, you’ll be riddled in five seconds flat. Don’t be a fool.”

“What am I supposed to do? Leave him to die? He’s my _brother_.” Fili slammed a closed fist on the tabletop. “I never should have left him here. I should have insisted, tied him up and thrown him in the boot if I had to. _Fuck_ , what have I done, Nori?” He stared at the ceiling, shaking his head. “I was so stupid and selfish and-” He punched the table again, harder, the beer bottles rattling. “ _Fuck!”_

“Hey, calm down.” Nori reached across and grabbed his wrist. “This wasn’t your fault. The kid made a stupid mistake and now he’s paying for it.” He heaved a long sigh, but didn’t relax his grip. “Look, things are different now. These Wargs, they’re something else. They muscled in on Crow territory and damn near wiped the whole gang out. I’ve seen what they do to people who get in their way and it’s ugly. Real ugly. They’ll be coming for the Durins next, and they’re not interested in keeping networks and supply. They want to burn the whole thing down and Thrain is shitting his pants. I’m not telling you to back off, I’m just letting you know - if you involve yourself in this, you are going to get in _serious_ shit. There won’t be any going back.”

Fili finished his beer, the dregs flat and lukewarm already. “I know.” He gulped. I don’t care. I  have to at least try and save Kili. I can’t leave him here again.”

Nori squeezed his wrist and let go. Dori was already waiting by the door with his arms folded, wearing a rather shabby suede jacket with the keys glinting in his hands. “Come on.” Nori too the empty bottles in one hand, hauling Fili up with the other. Outside, the air was fresh and cool. Fili sucked it in, feeling woozy. He finally lit up, waiting on the pavement as Nori tossed the empty beers in a skip bin around the side. Dori and his waitress disappeared, calling tense goodbyes to one another beneath the streetlights.

“Where are you staying?” Nori tapped Fili’s elbow in a silent bid for a cigarette. Fili relented, blowing long clouds of blue smoke into the night air.

“Dunno yet. Motel, I guess. That place on Glenfield Avenue still going?” Nori grunted and handed Fili back his plastic lighter. “I just need a bed.”

“Go to Glenfield. I’ll pick you up in the morning, around ten, I gotta sort some shit out first.” They both stared at the downtown street, the cars going past, the girl on the corner leaning through the front window of an idling Tiith, a gaggle of kids sharing a bottle of whiskey in the alley across the street. It was a Monday night, quiet and subdued. All that was still open was a convenience store and a 24-hour pawn shop. “You need to talk to Ori.”

“Ori?” Fili turned at the mention of Nori’s kid brother. Nori’s face was orange in the light, beard lit with sparks. “What’s he up to now?”

“Oh, same old. I’m trying to get the money to him into a good university, but he keeps putting me off. I think he’s scared to leave town. Works part-time at the library. Other than that, he just smokes a lot of pot.” Nori exhaled. Fili stared down at his boots, watching the dragon scales shimmer in the light. “He was seeing Kili until recently.”

Fili started. “ _Seeing?_ As in…”

“Mh-mm.” Nori snickered. “I invited the both of them to this party at Beznar, you know, the bar down at the river. You should see it since they done it up. They started smoking together and I guess one thing led to another. I don’t think Ori’s slept since Kili went missing, poor kid. They were having problems, but I think Ori really wanted to work things out.” The dwarf fell silent for a while, looking thoughtful. “He might know something.”

“I hope so, cos I got nothing.” Fili flicked the stub on the pavement and crushed it under his heel. “I don’t have a lot of time. Kili won’t be useful to them alive forever.”

“Nah, they won’t kill him.” Nori sounded nonchalant, but Fili didn’t believe it. “Thorin doesn’t want him back, they won’t rouse any more bad blood that way.”

“Why would they keep him? There’s no intel they could use. He can’t cook, he doesn’t have the contacts, he doesn’t know enough about the business.” Fili was working himself into a panic again. He wrung his shaking together, as though he could smooth the tremors out.

“Don’t start this, you’ll never come down.” Nori looked him in eye. “You can’t do anything, OK? Promise me you’ll go straight to the motel and get a room. Don’t go looking for trouble and thinking you can find a lead in some bar or dark alley. Don’t go anywhere without me.”

“Yeah, I won’t.” Fili mumbled.

“Righto. Catch you tomorrow. Ten.” Nori clapped him on the shoulder again and strolled away towards his car, a gleaming Phantom parked on the sidewalk. For a dwarf that liked to stick in the shadows and keep a low profile, Nori sure as hell liked to drive a showy car. Fili sighed and went to his own ride down the block. Even if he _wanted_ to go scouting tonight, Fili genuinely felt too tired to even try. The ache had of exhaustion settled down in bones, but his mind was still racing and alive.

It was a short drive to fourth. Fili kept his eyes on the road, listening to the radio and trying to hum along and distract himself. There was an orc behind the counter at the Glenfield, who spoke in unintelligible grunts, pointing to an information sheet taped to the desk. There were no rooms with low beds left, so Fili had to pay an extra ten for a tall. The lock was at shoulder-height and the bed impossibly long. Fili slung his backpack on the floor and stretched out on the mattress, staring up at the paint-chipped ceiling.

“I’m going to find you, Kili.” Fili whispered a promise in the dark. Fuck Thorin. Fuck his family. He would untangle this mystery by himself if he had to, chase down every lead and red herring in this town until he knew where this gang was keeping his brother. He wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t leave empty-handed. “No matter what it takes, no what I have to do. I’m going to get you back.”


	3. Chapter 3

Fili slept solidly for six or seven hours. It was the longest unbroken sleep he remembered having in weeks, yet he woke up feeling drained, his muscles aching as though he'd been out all night and only crawled into bed an hour ago. A pale grey light filtered through a crack in the curtains and Fili turned away from it, hoping to get a little more sleep, but the scratch of the cheap sheets and the flat pillow were just enough to keep him mildly irritated. Determined to keep his mind empty and clear, Fili counted slowly, getting up to three hundred and fifty before drifting back to the night before, to Nori and his brothers, to Thorin, to Sigrid. His stomach went tight at the thought of her. The image of her long brown legs stretched out on the dashboard made Fili jerk out of his haze with the guilt of somebody caught spying through a  crack in a door or a hole in a fence. With a sigh, he rolled over on to his back, staring at the fly shit and cobwebs on the ceiling. The pale light had turned yellow as the sun rose, and Fili conceded defeat.

No coffee. Fili flicked the kettle at the sad little kitchenette in the corner, staring hard at the empty slot in the plastic caddy between the teabags and little packets of sugar. While the water boiled, he rifled through the dingy little room, bored. The tiny TV was bolted into the corner, right up against the ceiling, at an angle that made Fili's neck ache. The walls were that horrible burnt orange that hadn't been fashionable for thirty years, nicked and grubby. It was like being trapped in a furnace. There was a phone book, two years out of date, by a mustard-yellow receiver, the cord tangled. Everything was observed with a flat, emotionless detachment. There was nothing to help or interest Fili in here – just another faded, cheap hotel room in another faded, cheap town.

Fili took a cup of strong tea out into the courtyard, sitting with his legs crossed on one of the lopsided pieces of patio furniture. The pavement was cracked, weeds breaking through, bleached white and dead. The pool was drained, a 'maintenance' sign resting haphazardly on a plastic chair that looked as though it had been there a while. Already there was heat in the air, the sun warm on his shoulders. It was going to be beautiful day. That was one thing he couldn't fault this town for – in the rain shadow of the jagged ranges in the west and at the very edge of the eastern desert, Shulkahar had a gorgeous climate. Bad weather was an oddity. Fili leaned back and closed his eyes, turning his face up to the sky. He had a quiet, sunny smoke while he drank the rest of his tea, listening to cars rush past, dogs barking, the distant rumble of a train. Despite everything that was going on, he felt strangely at peace. There was a stillness to the world at this moment, where other life forms were vague and on the edges.

The scrape of rubber soles on pavement broke the peace. Fili glared at the young woman crossing the courtyard, searching through a worn backpack for her keys. His tenuous sense of inner calm in pieces, Fili crushed out his cigarette and headed inside, dumping the remains of his tea over a cluster of dead weeds along the way.

One thing he supposed he liked about Edoras was the busyness. No matter what time of day or night it was, the city was alive. It was loud and noisy and colourful, whereas here there were stretches of hours, sometimes even days, it seemed, when silence and stillness reigned over the town and people were left inside their own heads. Perhaps that was how everybody gave themselves over to their vices so completely and gracelessly; it was a burst of life in that endless void of nothing. Even now, clean for five years and living his new life, Fili hated being trapped in long periods of silence, with only his own thoughts to comfort him.

There were still two hours until Nori was due to pick him up, and Fili was at a loss. He walked slowly down to the store on the corner, eating his sandwich in the back of a tiny strip mall, littered with rusty drums and broken wood pallets. Some kids had built little forts for themselves at some point, lined them with cardboard boxes and plastic sheets pilfered from the rubbish bins. There were attempts at making foxholes from the old drums and piles of dirt, and stockpiles of tin cans and broken bottles. They'd been playing war.

Fili swung his legs, perched on an old oil drum up against the sagging corrugated iron fence. The plastic sandwich wrapper joined the scattered rubbish all over the empty lot, shifting in the breeze. He and Kili used to play games like this, where everything long and thin was a gun and everything small and round a grenade, fashioning weapons out of whatever came to hand. He pressed his palm against the scar of his gunshot wound, beneath the ribs on the left side of his belly, the nostalgic smile fading. Kili still lived in this word of hand-built forts and guns made from broken broom handles. It was all a game to him, and he didn’t think it was possible to get hurt.

With a sigh, he checked his phone. No messages, but it was almost nine, and if Fili remembered correctly, nine was when the mausoleums opened. He’d ignored the thought yesterday, but it was harder now to push it back. The longer he was here, the heavier and heavier the memories all got, pushing down on him until he was about to be crushed. If he just saw them for a little bit, perhaps that would lessen the burden.

The tomb was cut from pure white, unmarked marble. It was roughly the same size and shape as a double bed, and when Fili was young he used to imagine them lying inside together as they did at home, with Mama on her side and Papa curled around her back, silent and unmoving, until Fili and Kili came in and woke them up. They would all snuggle up together on those mornings and watch cartoons in a huddle until Kili grew restless and hungry, and either Mama or Papa would throw him squealing over their soldier and march off to make breakfast.

The stone was silk-smooth and immaculate. Fili ran his fingertips over it sadly. In his head, he was a little boy again, kicking his brother under the covers while Papa barked at them to be quiet, listening to his mother laugh into the pillow. He missed them all so much that it hurt, deeper than any wound a knife or a bullet could inflict. Fili sank to his knees and stretched his arms out over this bed where his parents would sleep forever, not nestled into one another, but stiff and distant at a horizontal attention.

Mama and Papa may have been rough thugs deep in the Durin’s inner circle, but there was no doubt in Fili’s mind that they still put their kids first. They went to every soccer game of his and were in the front row of every school play. Every second Sunday they went to the movies and gorged themselves on popcorn and soda until they felt sick. Parks, swimming, parties, holidays - Mama and Papa spoiled their boys rotten and loved them relentlessly. Even though they seemed to always be out at night and Amma would come over and watch them and put them to bed, Fili and Kili would wake up first thing and run into the big bedroom at the end of the hall, squirming and jumping on the bed until their parents woke up...

Until one morning, when they woke up to find the bed cold and empty. When Fili went into the kitchen, he found Amma sitting at the table with a near-empty bottle of gin and a slim cigar that had burned down to a stub in her hand. She stared through the net curtains at the morning sun on the grass, stiff and cold and grey as a public statue in the park, and when Fili asked where Mama had gone, she started to cry.

"I wonder if you'll ever be proud of me." Fili murmured into the marble bedspread slowly growing warm under his cheek. "Sometimes I feel so ashamed of myself that I can't breathe. I know you would have wanted me to look after Kili, especially when he got big enough to get into trouble, but— I couldn’t keep on doing what I was doing without something giving way. I was slipping further and further into this destructive cycle of violence and revenge and all that _shit_ that goes along with it and I couldn't keep on, you know? I w-was worried that I'd wind up in the ground like you over some stupid, nothing turf war if the meth didn't finish me first." Fili sniffed. “I couldn't keep doing it. I'm so sorry that it came to this. But I-I promise I'll get him back. I'll find him, wherever is, and I'll take him away from all of this. You have to believe me, OK?"

There wasn’t an answer, and Fili didn’t expect one. There was nothing but the fading echo of their long-lost voices, whispering inside his head.

* * *

Nori came at ten as he promised in his ridiculous Phantom. Fili was waiting by the low fence on the corner, smoking, his backpack slung at his feet. It was already hot, and Fili watched the distant stretches of road waver in the baking sun.

“Oi,” Nori stuck his head out the window, sporting a pair of sleek sunglasses. “Get in.” Fili crushed out the stub and looked both ways before climbing inside. The fan was on full blast and Nori had the radio tuned to some orc-trash heavy metal station that set his teeth on edge. “Sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, considering.” Fili slung the pack in the backseat. It was cluttered with empty coffee cups and food wrappers and cans of beer, swishing around his feet. Nori obviously spent a lot of time in his car. “Been staking out or something?”

“Bit, yeah.” Nori smirked. “Good money if you can find it. I nick Ori’s camera, it’s got a bloody good lens, you know. PI’s on the tail of cheating wives, mostly. Even they don’t wanna stay in the hotel parking lot all night pissing in beer cans.” He turned onto the main drag. Out here it was industrial, all used car lots, with hardware stores, mechanics, fast-food joints and gun stores nestled in between. “Haven’t spoken to any of your lot in a couple of years. Had a bit of a bad spot with Thorin when he found out I did a side-job with a bloke whose brother was in the Crows.”

“Ooh, Thorin wouldn’t like that. He likes his crew loyal to the end.” Fili went to fiddle with the radio, but Nori slapped his hand away.

“My car, my sounds. You’re welcome to get out and walk.” Fili sighed and leaned an elbow against the passenger window, the breeze whipping his hair around his face. "Yeah, Thorin’s crew don't give me the time of day anymore, but I keep in the loop."

“So where are we going?” Fili murmured as they slowed for an intersection. “You sounded yesterday like you might have a plan.”

“I got a couple of leads we should check out this morning. There’s a girl who works at the Nauglamír Lounge who might know something, and I got a mate who’s done a couple of deals with runners for the Wargs in the past.” Nori looked thoughtful. “After that, we’ll go see Ori. I rung him before but he must still be in bed, poor kid. He stays up all night watching shit TV now, it’s hard to catch him before mid-afternoon. He never answers his phone.”

“Poor Ori.” Fili mumbled. “I can’t believe Kili never mentioned anything about him to me. Was he… embarrassed about it?” Kili had had a few flings with blokes before, but they were never anything beyond a few sloppy dates. Come to think about it, Kili had never really been in a proper relationship with a girl either. Maybe he didn’t want to seem sappy and vulnerable in his brother’s eyes. Maybe he just wasn’t into the relationship as much as Ori was.

“Hm, I guess they didn’t go out all that much together. That just could be that there’s nothing to do in this town.” Nori snorted. “Old dwarves aren’t a fan of that carry-on, and Thrain’s not exactly young or reasonable. ‘Course, it could just be that he’s my brother and my name’s mud to the Durins now. He didn’t want to drag Ori into that business and I wasn’t going to let him. I think Ori was… I dunno, a refuge maybe. He was more relaxed and happy in Ori’s apartment that I’ve ever seen him on the street. Oh, shit. I need a top-up.” There was a gas station half a block ahead and Nori turned in. He pulled out his wallet and pressed two twenties in Fili’s hand. “Can you go pay while I put it in? Actually,” he fished out another fiver, “get us a Firecracker. I’m thirsty as hell.”

“Sure.” Fili stepped out into the blazing heat. He was still thinking about Ori and Kili, wondering what it was that had kept Kili, usually so flighty and easily distracted, around for so long, and why he not once in the twenty or so phone conversations they had had in the last six months, ever mentioned it. The regular flavour was up too high and he couldn’t see anything to stand on, so Fili had to get sugar-free, hoping Nori would forgive him. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn’t realise who was behind the counter until he approached with the two monstrous cans of caffeine-laden soda.

“Hello, stranger!" Sigrid beamed, leaning on her elbows. Fili started and dropped one of the Firecrackers, mumbling an embarrassed apology as he got down from the built-in footstool to pick it up. “Be careful when you open that. Wanna grab another?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Fili cleared his throat and forced a smile trying to look as breezy and careless as she did. “I didn’t realise this was where you worked. A friend of mine is just filling his tank.”

“The wannabe biker in the Phantom?” She rested her chin on a clenched fist, glancing out the window. “Yeah, I’ve seen him around.” Sigrid wore the gas station uniform, a red button-down shirt that was slightly too big for her, long chestnut-brown hair tied back and hidden under a matching cap. At her throat was a simple heart-shaped silver locket, and she still wore the thick wristful of bohemian beads and string. There was a freshness in the lack of adornment. It was so against the normal fashions out here, where girls blacked out their eyes and painted their lips blood red, and the longer Fili looked, the more he wished more girls wore their faces like this. “What kind of friend is he?”

“The one with the best chance of helping me find my brother.” Fili lowered his voice and leaned as far over as he could. “He knows… a lot about what’s going on.”

“Looks the type.” Sigrid punched several keys on her register. “Did you manage to get in touch with your family in the end?”

“Uh, last night, yeah.” Fili stared down at the faded advertisement stuck to the counter. It sold lottery tickets and promised a windfall to that lucky competitor. “I saw my uncle last night. It went… as I expected.”

“Which was?”

“He told me to get out of town. Said if he ever saw my face again, he’d beat it into the pavement.” Sigrid drew back in alarm, soft eyes growing wide. “He doesn’t take abandonment well.”

“That doesn’t matter, he’s your _uncle.”_ She reached out and seized his hand. “Oh, Fili, I’m so sorry. And do you have any information from them about what happened to your brother?”

“Just that’s it’s messy, real messy, and there’s a lot no one will tell me.” There was a throbbing on the back of his hand where her fingertips rested, and Fili wasn’t even sure if was _her_ that set him afire, or the simple act of touch, skin on skin, itself. It felt like a long, long time before somebody had touched him with any real emotion behind it. “It turns out my brother’s been keeping a lot of secrets.”

“Oh, it’s the worst when they do that. At least if you know you can try to help. I _hate_ it when Bain tries to keep things from me. They always blow up in his face and then he comes running to me, expecting to pick up the pieces, and—” Sigrid caught herself and withdrew her hand, looking embarrassed. “You don’t want to hear about all that. It’s not the same.”

Fili smiled. “I do want to hear it. It’s almost the same in a way, you know? I spent years picking up after Kili whenever things went wrong, which seemed to be _all_ the time. Sticky fingers and a big mouth and an empty head, it made for nothing but trouble.”

“Sure we’re not talking about the same brother?” A big grin flashed across Sigrid’s face. “Hey…” The grin settled into a timid, uncertain half-smile. “I know you’re gonna be busy with all this family stuff going on, but if you’re free for a few hours while you’re here, do you want to grab a bite to eat somewhere?”

“Huh?” Fili blinked. “You mean, out?”

“Of course out, I can’t complain about my brother if he’s in earshot.” She looked self-conscious as she waited for his answer, tugging at one of her strings of beads.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” He blundered the words out after a scant moment’s thought. “What about tonight?” Fili didn’t know why jumped for it so early, and it seemed to take Sigrid slightly aback too. “I don’t know how long I’ll actually be here.”

“Tonight.” The wide grin returned. “Sure. Around six?" Fili nodded. "Great. Give me your phone, I'll pop my number in." After a brief hesitation, he relented. Sigrid tapped a few buttons and frowned. "There's only one other number in here."

"Oh, I just got it. Haven't put any numbers in yet." Fili inwardly cringed at the awful excuse, and he could see that Sigrid didn't believe him for a moment.

"So the first person you add is your estranged brother." She arched a dark eyebrow. “Second phone, huh?"

"My real phone's back home." Sigrid handed it back with a wry smile, and Fili wished the ground would just swallow him up. "I keep this part of my life completely secret. It's just easier."

"And you told me everything within a few hours of meeting me?" She straightened up, those traces of guarded suspicion vanishing from her face in a pink flush.

"Uh, yeah." Fili scratched the back of his neck and tried to play it cool. "What does that tell you, huh?" He wanted to come off as casually joking, but his tone was too soft-spoken and timid, and Fili came off sounding affected and a little desperate. Again, the painful clench of embarrassment balled in his stomach, and he wished for something to come and carry him off.

"Fili!  What's the hold up in here?" He sagged in relief as Nori stepped inside. "There a problem?" The question was directed at Sigrid now, who looked similar to how Fili felt.

"No, not at all." Crisply, she swept the notes across the counter and into the register in a single motion. “You two have a good day, now." But to Fili she winked and mouthed _tonight_. Fili could only manage a nod before he retreated.

“Shit, you look like a kid who just got snapped with his hand down his pants." Nori snorted as they got into the car. Fili handed him his drink and shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "What were you doing in there?"

Fili opened his mouth to speak, but Nori interrupted him when he pulled the tab on his drink. It sprayed sticky, thick soda all over his jacket sleeve and steering wheel, Sigrid forgotten and Fili unable to speak through his laughter.

* * *

Nauglamír Lounge was a squat red building on the east side of town in a strip of stores, wedged between a panelbeater and a cheap motel. Fili had only been once, with Kili, when they were both drunk and up for a laugh. One of the girls wound up giving him head in the bathroom for an eighth of his silm-quality crystal, and Kili started a fight with one of the bouncers, getting them both thrown out.

As the name suggested, Nauglamír was owned by dwarves once upon a time. The seedy club was founded by old Gruðfinnr, or ‘Grubby’ to his friends, was part friend, part rival of Thrain and had a string of bars and clubs signed in his name. It was all a front through which he laundered both his own drug money and a select few others for a twenty percent cut. After an attempted importation of fifty kilograms of top-quality cocaine was intercepted by the Illicit Substances Authority, Grubby was convicted, and after an excruciating legal process, his various enterprises seized and sold by the ISA at auction piece by piece. Nauglamír was bought by a shrewd orc, Zaboth, who put orcs on the stage and orcs at the door and orcs behind the bar, but kept the ironic dwarvish name. Thrain had interpreted it as a warning to his people; orcs were coming in on their territory, and the dwarves had better start watching their backs.

The girl, Orskhûn, turned out to be useful after all. Nori paid for her and another girl for fifteen minutes in the VIP room, hoping the privacy and heavy tips would loosen her tongue. Nori hissed in Fili’s ear before they went in to play the typical top dog who was only there for a good time, to be Nori’s thick-headed accomplice and let him do all the talking. Fili’s girl, Riit, was a narrow-hipped orc who seemed older than she probably was. She’d obviously had work done on her eyes and nose and probably her breasts too, which she insisted Fili keep touching, grasping him by the wrists and holding his hands in place. Fili played along, going as far as he dared and keeping a grin on his face, but inside he was withering.

At least Riit was something he usually went for, slender and tall. She ground down on his thigh, and Fili rested his hands on her hips, felt the jut of her bones against his palms, leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling for a moment the stirrings of desire in his abdomen. She purred in his ear, asked if he liked it, and Fili found himself afraid to open his mouth and answer. He felt disgusting, going along with this when just an hour or so ago he’d agreed to see Sigrid that very night, but Fili knew the game he and Nori were playing. All he could do was put Sigrid out of his mind and throw himself headlong into the act.

“I got an address. Not the hideout itself, they’d never take her there, but one of the big-time breakers has parties at his place all the time.” Nori grinned as they retreated to the safety of his Phantom. Fili groaned with his hands balled in tight fists, wanting nothing more to scrub himself under a hot shower until his skin was raw. “Girls like her don’t have a shred of loyalty.” The grin died. Nori’s jaw was thrust out in a scowl and Fili wished he could see through those reflected sunglasses into Nori’s eyes. He wondered if it was his money or his heart that had been compromised by a girl like Orskhûn in the indeterminable past. “Well, that could have gone a lot worse.” Nori abruptly yanked at the handbrake. “Come on, we’ll see if Drago knows any more.”

Drago lived in a trailer on the outskirts. The first glimpse Fili caught of the man was a pair of dark brown legs scattered with black hairs sticking out from beneath a thirty-year-old Sulmûrz, a massive, rather ugly muscle car missing one wheel and a big hole where the engine should be. The black monitor on his ankle flashed a tiny red light every few seconds, steady and regular as somebody blinking. “Nori!” Drago had a deep, bellowing laugh as he clapped the dwarf on the shoulder. “Who’s your friend?”

They drank glurau, a yellow orcish lager that men inexplicably took a liking to, on folding chairs in the buttery sun. Nori and Drago bantered, and Fili listened quietly, absorbing some familiar names and a whole lot of new ones. It was remarkable how quick the scene could change in a few short years, how many people he knew in passing or by name had wound up dead or skipped town. That was him, too, Fili reminded himself watching a three-legged dog nosing through a bag of rubbish across the road. He was a runaway.

Fili sat in his chair, nameless in this man’s eyes, and let Nori do all the talking. By two, Nori decided enough was enough. He asked about the Wargs, the house on Sulstrok, and the elusive Dumûl. Drago shook his head and apologised, said he didn’t know anything he hadn’t already told Nori last week, when he started asking a few questions for Ori’s sake.

“Damn, I _really_ hoped Drago would be a solid lead.” Nori sighed when they were inside the car. “He’s usually all over this shit. Guess it’s hard when you’re on detention and can’t leave the house.”

“We still have that address.” Fili wiped at his face, flushed and sweaty from the sun. “That should get us somewhere.”

“Ugh, I hope so. Right, Ori’s. No more detours in the shitholes of Shulkahar.” Nori started driving back towards the western suburbs, down near the riverfront. “I bet he’s still in bed, poor kid.” Nori’s face softened at that, and they drove the rest of the way in silence. Even the radio was turned down.

Nori stopped outside a block of flats made from stucco and about three stories high. They were hotel rooms once, Nori explained as they clumped up the stairs, converted about ten years ago. It was a pretty cheap way to live alone. The rooms were clean, and although small by a man’s standards, seemed to fit Ori comfortably enough.

He didn’t bother knocking. Nori pulled out a key and let himself right in. “Ori?” He called. Fili followed silently. The kitchenette was full-sized, but everything else was a dwarvish ratio, something Fili hadn’t seen in a full room outside of showrooms in big-box appliance stores. It was strange to see at first, like looking in a doll’s house at the things like magazines and cups and bowls and CD’s and a laptop computer laid out on the small furniture, looking clumsy and mismatched. It was a clean, well-kept apartment that Ori had obviously styled and designed carefully, if not expensively, but recently had given way to clutter and haphazard neglect.

The couch was turned away from the door, but the TV was on, blaring some trashy soap. “Did you go to bed last night, Ori?” Like it was completely routine, Nori went straight to the kitchenette and started filling the sink. A non-committal mumble sounded from the couch. Fili stood awkwardly on ceremony as Nori walked around picking up plates with crumbs and sandwich crusts and half-eaten bowls of cereal. “Has Dori been in at all?”

“No.” He finally got an answer, albeit static and short.

“‘Course not.” Nori muttered, scraping the plates as clean as he could and putting them in to soak. “Did you go to work yesterday?”

“No.” Ori wobbled from the couch. It was so pathetic, watching Nori clean up with a businesslike familiarity. He pulled open the fridge and went through, sniffing the milk and wincing before throwing the whole bottle in the rubbish.

“You haven’t touched the food I brought you. Damn it, Ori. I know you’re upset but this has to stop.” Nori slammed the door with a huff. “Have you even noticed who’s here or are you too busy watching shit TV?”

Ori finally sat up, his tousled head peeping over the couch. “ _Fili?”_ He gasped and stood up. “Wh— Why are you here? When did you get in?”

“Hi, Ori.” The poor dwarf looked haggard and faded in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, his auburn hair on end and the patchy scratch of stubble which suggested Ori had recently stopped shaving. He had always been odd-looking, a pale, somewhat knobbly dwarf, but he was always well-kept despite his oddities. Seeing Ori like this was crushing.

“Play him the message.” Nori muttered, head and shoulders in the fridge.

“What message?” Ori looked from one to the other. “What do you know?”

“Sit down.” Fili gestured to the small table pushed against the wall by the kitchenette. Ori obeyed. “I’ve been here since yesterday afternoon. Late on Saturday night, I got a phone message from Kili—” Ori let out a strangled cry, hands over his mouth. “Yeah. I, um, I can’t really explain it.” He pulled out his phone and opened his mailbox. “Just listen.”

Ori scrabbled for the phone and pressed it against his ear, wild-eyed. There was a stack of photos on the table, and Fili rifled through them while waited, mainly to keep his hands busy. Ori always had an eye for photography, Fili remembered. He loved taking photographs of everyday objects and actions, of people’s hands and feet, and the other sorts of things that got overlooked. This looked like a reel of those artistic photographs. The fourth one was Kili. There was a lump forming in Fili’s throat as he looked at it, the only image he’d seen of his brother in five years. Kili was hunched over in close-up, somewhere beneath a cloudy sky, trying to light a cigarette in a sharp breeze that blew his hair over his face in dark tendrils. His eyes were downcast, hands dirty and nails ridged with black. There were hollows in his cheeks, and Fili told himself that it was from holding the cigarette, feeling that ache sharpen to an intense, throbbing guilt and grief. Kili looked like one of those homeless kids he’d see begging on the street or sleeping in parks, far too young for the careworn exhaustion painted so broadly over his face.

He looked up to see Ori crying, staring down at the phone as though it could give him some answers. Nori had stopped cleaning and stood with a hand on his brother’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Where is he?” Ori sniffed and wiped at his eyes with his wrist, shaking.

“I don’t know.” Fili set the photo down. “That’s what Nori and I are trying to find out.”

“They’re torturing him.” Ori’s plaintive voice edged towards a wail. “H-He hasn’t done anything to deserve this. He was just— Oh, _Kili.”_ His face was buried in his hands again.

“Yeah.” Fili clasped his hands together and thrust them between his legs. “We’re chasing down every lead we can, Ori. I promise.”

“I told him so many times to stop. He was getting deeper and deeper into trouble and nothing I said could drag him out of it." Ori sobbed through his splayed fingers. "This isn't happening. It _can't_."

"You need to calm down." Nori sat on the third chair, both hands on his brother's shoulders now. "At least we know he's alive, all right? We know more today than yesterday."

"We know he's a prisoner!" Ori shot back, red-eyed. “What if they decide he's not useful anymore and they..." He gritted his teeth and shook his head, hating to think about it. “They can’t do this. Whoever these— these _bastards_ are, they can’t do this.”

“Oh, shit, Ori.” Nori sighed, pulling him into a full-fledged embrace. “It’s all right.” Ori buried his head in his leather jacket, terrified and exhausted.

“I love him so much.” Ori sobbed against Nori’s chest. “He’s _everything_ to me, Nori.” Fili stared back down at the picture of Kili, at his sunken cheeks and half-lidded eyes. It must have been so painful for Ori to watch him degrade and wither away like this, hollowing himself out. He pushed the photo away with a fresh surge of guilt rising in his chest. Nori looked over his brother’s bent head at Fili, clearly shocked. He hadn’t realised just how strongly Ori had felt about Kili.

“Hey, hey.” Nori pulled Ori’s head up. “Go and have a shower. Get into some clean clothes, and we’ll talk this all through, figure out what we know and where to go from here. No more tears, all right?” His lip trembling, Ori nodded half-heartedly. He slid off the chair and went into the bathroom with his head bent.

Nori groaned as soon as he was gone, leaning back in his chair. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t realise Ori was actually in love with him.” Fili watched as the other dwarf stood up, turning to the sink of hot, soapy water.

“Yeah, me neither. I thought it was just a bit of a fling, you know? Makes sense, though. Ori’s always been a bit needy, ever since our Ma died, and nobody else around here loved Kili, so he just latched on.” Nori scrubbed violently, snarling down at the dishes.

“I hate to ask this, but do you think Kili loved him back?” Nori snorted.

“Do you seriously think someone as fucked up as him knows the meaning of the word after all the shit he’s done to himself and everyone around him?” Nori was flinging soap suds all over his black jeans, flecks splattered on the tiny square of faded linoleum beneath the counter.

“Of course I do. _I_ love him to bits.”

“But you weren’t here, were you?” Nori threw the scrubbing brush in the greasy water, and Fili finally realised that Ori’s outburst had angered him. “Did Kili even tell you all the shit he’s done? I bet he didn’t. He was so desperate to please Thrain and Thorin and prove himself that he did anything they asked. They started taking advantage of him, Fili. They started telling him to do shit just to see if he would.”

“I know, they’re fucked up, but—”

“Did he tell you he shot a kid?” Nori turned to face him, his face and voice cold. Fili’s breath died in his throat, horror cramping in his chest.

“ _No.”_ He croaked.

“Yeah. A twelve-year-old boy who was being used as a mule by Garmadh’s crew. He ended up witnessing a pretty big deal go down between Dwalin and Kili and one of their eastern clients in a parking lot. Fucking stupid they were there at all, if you ask me. They caught the kid trying to run away and Dwalin told Kili to shoot him in the back of his head.” Fili’s stomach lurched, and he was certain he was about to be sick.

“I asked him so many times to come to be with me.” Fili whispered. “I promised I would look after him, I’d get him help—”

“He’s not _like_ you, Fili.” Nori sat back at the table, voice coloured with a new tone, one Fili took as sympathy. “The family was all he ever knew, he didn’t know how to make a life beyond that.”

“I hate them so much.” Fili’s voice shook with anger. “Those fucking _bastards_ , Nori. They never gave a shit about him, did they?”

“Guess since it was going to go to him one day, they wanted him to get his hands plenty dirty first.” It wasn’t a consolation. Fili rested his elbows on the table, fingers laced through his hair.

“I should have come earlier to take him away.” Fili mumbled. “I was… scared. I was scared of Thrain and Thorin and what they would do to me. And I was scared that if I came here again, I’d never get out.”

“Well, when we do find Kili, get him out of here. The both of you need to get out and never show your face within a hundred miles of here again.” Nori crossed his arms.

“What about Ori? You just heard him. He’d be so heartbroken if Kili was just taken away from him again, and Kili might not want to leave him either.”

Nori sighed. “Trust me, _that’s_ not going to be a problem.” The dull throb of the shower pounded through the thin walls, but he still lowered his voice. “They broke up four or five days before Kili went missing. Ori thought at first they were just taking a break, you now, sorting headspace, but by the time I saw Kili next, he seemed pretty convinced it was over.”

“Oh, really?” Fili didn’t know if he should be pleased or upset about that, and settled for feeling painfully sorry for poor Ori. “Did he tell you?”

“No, but the girl’s tongue down his throat at Beznar two days after they split was a pretty clear indication.” Nori muttered darkly. “Ori doesn’t know about that, so zip it, hm?”

“Yeah, of course.” Fili ached with disappointment and anger. Stupid, _stupid_ Kili. That (and Fili hated to admit it) sounded more like his thoughtless little brother than the lovestruck Beren that Ori had tried to make him out to be. Everything was all loose ends and fragmented pieces of a story told from contradicting points of view.

“Poor Ori thinks Kili's some sort of diamond in the rough." Nori shook his head in exasperation.

“But you think he's just as bad as everyone else." Fili mumbled, staring down at the photo of Kili again.

“I don’t think that." Nori contradicted him sharply. “I think he was a scared, lonely kid who had nobody to turn to. You abandoned him, Fili. Do you have _any_ idea how much it fucked him up, having you walk out on him? You say you asked him to follow you, after completely cutting him out of your life? Are you surprised he didn’t leave?"

"I had to leave, Nori. I had to get myself out of there before I wound up like Uncle Frerin and my parents." It was such a weak excuse now that Fili was faced with the consequences of his decision. It wasn’t good enough, and he knew it. “I was a coward.” Fili admitted. “All right? I was a fucking coward.”

“At least now you have the balls to admit it.” Nori fished his slightly crumpled pack of Ushar’s out of his pocket and rifled around on the table for a lighter. “Look, I’m not mad at you, really. I kind of get it. It’s your life, live it how you want. I’m just trying to warn you that when we do find Kili… he won’t be like you remember.”

Fili stared down at the photograph of Kili, a gaunt shadow of his brother, feeling the panic swell in his chest. “I’m starting to see that.”


	4. Chapter 4

Broken slabs of pavement wavered unsteadily beneath Fili’s shoes. The ground had gone soft and muddy in the rain, and the makeshift pathway was beginning to sink into the soupy dirt. The curtains were drawn, the faded grey paint of the windowsills cracked and peeling. There was no porch, just a set of steps with a battered welcome mat and two pairs of gumboots lined up by the door. He held his breath, fist hovering six inches over the panelling. With a long, deep sigh, Fili knocked his eyes and knocked once, twice, three times, standing back with his hands deep in the pocket of his jacket.

“Hello?” A tiny voice came from inside. “Who’s there?” It must have been the little girl that Fili had seen the day before.

“Hi.” Fili tried to sound casual and unaffected, calling through the door. “Is your big sister Sigrid there? I was supposed to meet her around now. I’m Fili.”

“Excuse me.” Fili heard the patter of feet. Curious, he pressed his ear against the door. “Sigrid! Sigrid, there’s someone at the door!” He held his breath again, trying to block out the sound of birds twittering and distant cars sloshing along the wet streets and a dog barking several houses down. “He said his name was Fili, do you–” Fili strained to try and make out Sigrid’s voice. “But you said I can’t open the door to anyone I don’t know _ever._ ” There was a flash of silence. “But you _said!”_

There was a heavier thud of footsteps. “Tilda, you know what I mean.” At the sound of her voice, Fili jumped back and smoothed down his hair one last time, plastering a smile over her nervous face. He heard the click of several locks and the weathered door creaked open. “Fili.” He saw instantly what had distracted her; Sigrid wore nothing but a rather threadbare yellow towel, water running in rivulets from her hair and over her shoulders, dripping onto the carpet. “I am so sorry. Come in.”

“Sure.” He couldn’t trust himself to say anything else. The little sister, Tilda, stood wide-eyed in the hallway.

“He’s a _dwarf._ ” She whispered, clumsy and obvious.

“Yes, he’s a dwarf. Go and play in your room.” Sigrid gave Fili a despairing glance. “Sorry, I was held up at work. I promise, I just need a few minutes. There’s beer in the fridge if you want one.”

“No worries. I’ll just, uh, catch the sports, yeah?” Fili pointed his thumb in the direction of the living room, and Sigrid nodded, relieved. It was a room that Sigrid had obviously tried and failed, repeatedly, to keep tidy, with dolls and teddies and all sorts of cheap plastic toys spread out over the floor. Fili sat on the edge of the couch, finding the remote but turning it over and over in his hands instead of switching on. Instead of obeying her sister, Tilda followed, standing in the middle of the cluttered room and addressing Fili with a childish suspicion.

“Are you Sigrid’s boyfriend?” The question caught Fili so off-guard he dropped the remote.

“Uh, no. I’m just a friend, who’s… a boy.” He cleared his throat. “I’m just a friend.” Through the thin walls, Fili could hear the low hum of a hairdryer. “You don’t have anything to worry about.” Tilda kept standing there with her eyes narrowed, looking Fili up and down with his collared shirt and worn shoes and nervous smile. His phone vibrated and Fili checked the message. It was from Nori – _Country Fried at eleven. Don’t forget_. Eventually, Tilda knelt down on the floor.

“Do you want to play dolls?” She held one out for him, with her hair cut unevenly and coloured marker tattoos on her arm.

“Sure.” Fili got down beside her. “What’s her name?”

“Minya. She works at the diner cos she has a sick little brother and her Papa’s in the big house. This is her best friend Tina. She’s a movie star and she’s come to take Minya and her brother away. And this is their apartment,” Tilda showed him a shoebox filled with furniture cut from cereal boxes and bookshelves drawn on the wall, “and they go to school under the coffee table cos they’re not grown-ups yet, and they have two horses over here…”

After ten minutes, Fili looked up to see Sigrid leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed. She’d changed into a short black dress, sleeveless and high-cut that showed a lot of leg, her hair dried in soft, shiny waves, face made up and high heels on her slim feet. This was _definitely_ a date. Fili dropped the doll and felt the colour swell in his cheeks, finding himself at a loss. Sigrid must have sensed his nervousness, because she laughed. “Tilda, are you roping Fili in on your games?” She winked at him. “It’s a good sign. Means she likes you. Ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, Tilda.” The little girl pouted up at her sister.

“Don’t look at me like that. Look, you’ve already eaten dinner, but if you get hungry again, you can have one of the doughnuts in the fridge. I’ve counted them. Bain!” Her voice rose. “I’m going now.”

“Yeah, whatever!” Fili heard from the back of the house. Sigrid rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to call Bain at eight-thirty, and if you’re not in bed, no TV for a _whole_ week, all right?”

“But _Sigrid_ –”

“No buts. Goodbye kiss.” Tilda obeyed with a sigh. “Good girl.” Fili stood up too, and it wasn’t until he was at the doorway that Sigrid gasped, a hand over her mouth. She was already taller than him, but with the heels, he came six inches past her elbow. “Oh, I didn’t think. I’m _so_ sorry.” Sigrid kicked them off, looking embarrassed. “Give me a moment.” She left them in the hallway and came back with a pair of slightly scuffed flats. “All right, _now_ I’m ready.”

“If you prefer heels–”

“Ugh, no girl _really_ prefers heels. Come on.” Sigrid grabbed his arm and flashed a grin. “Quick, before Tilda turns on the waterworks.”

* * *

They found a family restaurant on the main drag, the kind where the printed menus had colouring-in pictures on the back and reproduced prints of classic cars on the walls. At least it was clean and there was a special on beers until nine. They sat in a vinyl booth by the street-front window. Fili checked the shelf by the door, but the boosters were all being used and he had to get his own from the car, trying to hide it behind his back.

"Does it happen more in Edoras, though? I didn't think there were many dwarves down there at all." Sigrid smiled at him over the menu as he sat down, one heavy brow arched.

"Yeah, we're a minority." Fili admitted. "I'm used to it really. I'm always having to ask people to get things from the top shelf at the supermarket and all my jeans are bought online. I'm definitely getting a crick in my neck from looking up all the time. I think I’ll have to see a chiropractor."

The waitress took their order and came back right away with two beers. Condensation beaded on the glass bottle and left Fili’s hand wet as he drank. "What about girls?” She couldn’t resist, obviously. Sigrid leaned forward on her elbows. "I know you were engaged, but... do you get girlfriends that aren't dwarves, or was Ella special?"

"Well, of course she was special, I nearly married her." Fili clung to the beer. "But yeah, to be honest I dated more women than dams." Sigrid tucked a lock of glossy hair back from her face, listening with a small smile. “With dams... you're not really dating her, you're dating her family, if that makes sense?"

"Fertility rates are awful, aren't they?" Fili nodded. "So, I guess the ones lucky enough to have a kid..."

"Mm. Kids are really really special. And we're all conservative, even my family. My papa had to get a blessing from everyone in my family before he could propose to Mama. It's funny, really. We do all these illegal things but when it came to Mama getting married, Thror turned into the most pious man in town."

"Family is really important to you, isn't it?"

Fili nodded. "More than anything." He stared down at his drink, casting his mind about for something to say. “Course that's all an excuse really." A wry smile crept across his face. "By dwarvish standards, I'm hideous."

Sigrid coughed on her drink. "What? No, you're having me on."

"I'm not." Fili promised. “No dam would risk bearing my children if there was a chance they came out with a mug like this."

"What are you talking about?" Sigrid laughed. "You don't look half bad for– well, anything. _I_ didn't even realise you were a dwarf until I saw the seat."

"We were lucky like that. Kili was always handsomer, though. By man standards, I mean. His nose was smaller and he had that brooding dark look that women fall all over."

"Oh please." Sigrid wrinkled her nose. "That is _so_ tired. I bet he smokes cigarettes and rides a crappy motorbike too."

Fili laughed. “He did! You're right, he was straight out of a rock video."

“Well, anyway.” Sigrid was peeling at the corner of the damp label on her beer. “If you’re ugly for a dwarf, they obviously don’t have any taste.” Outside a bunch of teenagers were shuffling past, shouting and flipping off another group of kids across the roads. Fili and Sigrid watched their posturing with twin smiles.

“Oh, boys.” Sigrid leaned back in her chair. Her foot gently brushed the inside of Fili’s calf, and he shivered, wondering if she meant to do it or it was an accident. “I guess now that I have to look after one on my own, I don’t really find it endearing anymore.” She sighed. “Guess I’m growing up.”

They chatted for an hour and a half, picking at curly fries after the burgers were done and splitting a big slice of chocolate cake with ice cream. Fili found himself laughing harder than he had in months, maybe even years. Sigrid filled him in on everything that had happened in town and Fili told funny stories about Edoras. She asked for advice on how to deal with Bain and Fili helped as best he could, warning her that he wasn’t exactly a good big brother, but kids were easy enough to handle at that age. It was when they grew old enough to drive and drink and buy their own cigarettes that it started to get hectic.

It was nine when they finally left, splitting the bill and walking slowly across the parking lot.  
“It’s a pretty night.” Sigrid looped her arm through his. “Seems a shame to waste it.”

“What, did you have something in mind?” He looked up at her face, lit orange beneath the parking lot lights with her eyes shadowed. Sigrid chewed on the inside of her cheek and when they approached the car, rested her fingertips on the handle in pause.

“We should go for a drive.” She announced. “Neither of us have the money to get anything else and I won’t get a moment’s peace at home.” Fili was taken aback, looking at her through his grimy windows. Sigrid crouched down to look back, grinning. “No?”

Fili unlocked the car and pushed his booster seat back into place, mulling it over. It was clear from all the hints, the touches and laughs at jokes that weren’t that funny, what she wanted. And he liked her too, with her smart asides and sense of humour. She was gorgeous. Fili slid into his seat and gripped the steering wheel. It wasn’t fair on either of them. He was only a visitor, a flicker in her life. He couldn't even stay the night.

Sigrid sat down and stretched her long legs out, leaning on one elbow as she looked at him. “Hm?” Fili jerked up and realised he hadn’t yet given her an answer.

“Uh, yeah.” His mouth was dry. “Sounds good.”

They drove through the winding streets of the countryside for half an hour and found themselves at the top of Craggy Hill, a stout peak overlooking the city that was was scattered with litter but devoid of any life. There were no bushes or trees, just a flat gravel parking lot with a waist-high barrier. Sigrid and Fili sat silently in the car, with the radio on some cooldown station playing softly, watching the tiny red and white lights inch across the distant landscape.

“It’s pretty from far away.” Sigrid shuffled down in her seat so she could lean on Fili’s shoulder. “Look at the river, with all the lights on it. Must be a party.”

“Always a party somewhere.” Fili didn’t know what to do with his hands. He felt he needed to reciprocate this gesture, but everything in his head seemed too forward. He settled for resting his right hand on her knee, just gently enough to be seen as an accident, listening to her breathe in the darkness.

Sigrid chuckled and after a moment lifted her head. “Speaking of,” she turned on the light and rifled through her handbag, “you down?” She held a slim joint between thumb and forefinger, the corner of her mouth rising in a smile.

“I didn’t think you smoked.” Fili pulled his lighter out of his pocket and handed it over. “Beyond the odd puff at parties, I mean.”

“I found it in Bain’s room.” She lit up, hair falling over her face. “I put his clothes away for him, else they’re left all over the place. He put it in his sock drawer, the idiot. It’s like a bad sitcom. Then he tells me he’s holding it for a friend.” Sigrid inhaled, eyes closed, passing it over.

Fili breathed in, felt the rolling warmth, the lifting sensation. It was cheap and harsh in his lungs, and he fought the urge to cough. “Shit, I hope he didn’t pay too much for it.”

“Mm, I know. There’s guys all over the place selling cabbage to schoolkids who don’t know better. Easy money.”

“Easy targets too.” He sighed. They smoked quietly, thinking their own thoughts. Fili bobbed and floated gently on soundwaves from the radio, eyes closed and neck arched on his headrest. He used to smoke with Kili like this in his Âvul, a couple of friends in the back. Kili would always have the music up too loud on some trashy metal station, or he’d blast the demo tape of his awful band that he drummed in, and he was always too energetic afterwards, wanting to _do_ things, see people, cause trouble, set the town on fire, when Fili was happy to buy a family meal from Burger Box and fall asleep in bed with it. But Kili always won, and they always wound up in some sort of trouble by the end of the night, nursing bruises and empty wallets and impending hangovers. It soured somewhere along the line after Fili left, the stupid, childish pranks turned malicious, and it stopped being about fun. Kili had started to _hurt_ people, started killing them. He’d started being like Thorin, and Fili felt the sharp weight of blame crushing his buzz, intruding on the warmth.

He opened his eyes, blinking into focus. The cars still wove in and out through the slanted criss-cross of streetlights. The radio still played the same warbling chilled-out music, slightly staticy through Fili’s broken antenna. Sigrid was sitting with her cheek on the headrest, staring wide-eyed at Fili’s outline in the darkness, her face a white smudge in the grey. She laughed, the shapeless hole of her mouth stretching, growing wider, showing teeth. Fili was staring at her, his heart thudding faster and faster, a drumbeat that drowned out the radio.

They both leaned in. Fili wound an arm around Sigrid’s neck and leaned across, crawling clumsily into her seat and straddling her long, long legs. One hand curled in his hair, the other touching the stubbly hollow beneath his jaw. It was electric, the way she leaned up into him, thighs brushing hips, squeezing as he crouched against her. Fili shrugged off his jacket and ran his palms over her legs, the curve of her waist and swell of her breasts in the tight dress and cupped her face, trying to get deeper, further, closer.

This wasn’t even the first girl he touched today. With a sick flash, Fili remembered Riit and her plastic breasts, that contrived moan in his ear, calling him ‘big boy’ and ‘honey’ and whatever else it would take to get better tips. Could Sigrid smell it on him, that stale odor of cigarettes and cheap whiskey and shame? Fili felt like he could smell nothing else right then – it stank, choked him, dragging him down. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in, tried to lose himself in her. Sigrid was he wanted; girl-next-door, lithe and slender but not bony, wise-cracking and clever without being a hardened bitch, teeth still clean and white in her head, lucid and sober.

She found the levers of the seat, jerked one and then the other so they both went falling back, Sigrid stretched prostrate in the car with Fili draped over her. He pulled at her hips, begged her to come closer, for their bodies to make contact. Every time she breathed, short, choking gasps of air through the heady kisses, a shudder ran through Fili’s body, sinking into his gut and pooling there, growing tighter and tighter until he was throbbing.

With her arms around Fili’s waist, Sigrid shifted with a catlike ease, moving their bodies until Fili was on his back and she was resting over him, taking him apart with a determined precision. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt and pulled at them, kissing every inch of skin as it was slowly exposed until she was looking up at him from the waistband of his jeans, squeezed in the hollow beneath the dashboard with her knees in the litter of wrappers and empty coffee cups. He couldn’t quite tell, but she looked very flushed in the dark beneath her tangled hair, the black holes of her eyes turned to his face. When her fingertips brushed his belt-buckle and started to pull, Fili fought back a groan, eyes rolling up in his head. He wanted it. He wanted Sigrid’s mouth on him, tasting, swallowing him whole, milking him dry. She’d be untested and eager to please, Fili instinctively guessed, doing her best and not caring one bit about the mess she made.

But he didn’t want just that. He didn’t want a disconnected mouth and set of hands. He wanted _her_ , all of her. He wanted to feel her move against him, feel bare skin against his hands, the throb of her heart beneath her ribs. Wordlessly, Fili pulled at her arms, coaxing her to come back up, up, up.

“I thought you wanted…” There was a frown on her face; he could just see vaguely see it, feel the furrow of her brow as his fingers brushed her face. Fili shook his head and kissed her, one hand skating along the curve of her body and finding the hem of her dress. Sigrid drew back, her breath hot and wet against his lips, ribs pressing against his bare chest as she gasped for air. Fili thought he went too far and he dropped his hand, feeling his face redden in the dark at his blunder.

“I-If you don’t,” he stammered like a teenager, hoping there was some way to recover from this. “It’s all right.”

“No, I do.” Sigrid laughed at his clumsy backpedalling, soft and breathy. “It’s just I’m not on anything. Do you have…”

“Wallet.” Fili fumbled around in the back pocket of his jeans and fished a condom out, digging behind his driver’s licence. Sigrid held onto it, foil crinkling in her palm while Fili found the edge of her underwear, soft skin turning to cheap lace. It was a sweaty stumble and Fili nearly sore the delicate fabric in his eagerness to get it off. But it wasn’t enough – he needed to see and touch more of her. So often, sex wounded up feeling dull and empty, and he found himself just going through the motions, like he had with Ana a few days before.

But this was different. Sigrid’s touch had set the deepest parts of him alight. He didn’t just want to fuck her in the passenger seat and be done with it. He wanted to be _with_ her, to get inside her head and map it all out, to know everything there was to her, to defend and protect her. He wanted to be her everything and yet Fili knew that it was impossible. There was an ache in his chest as he worked at the zip on her dress, pulling it down her arms until the blue lace of her bra rasped against his hypersensitive fingers and he was fumbling with the metal clasp between her shoulderblades. Part of him felt guilty for doing it like this, fumbling around in the car with bits hanging out of their clothes while the windows fogged. He wanted to spread her out, have her slowly, worship every inch of her, see if she had any freckles on her shoulders, any moles on her stomach, if she had a tattoo (if she did, it would be a small bird or a love heart on her hip), whether her bellybutton went in or out. She deserved so much better than a quick fuck in the passenger seat.

It didn’t last all that long in the end. Fili was already hard and leaking by the time Sigrid got his jeans open, and with her soft, lithe body draped all over him, her choked moans in his ear, Fili was fighting to hold it back, trying to think of something else so he could keep going a little bit longer while she moved her hips against him, wishing that it could keep going on and on. They fell into each other, a tangle of limbs and sweaty hair and clothes that had been unbuttoned and pulled aside. Fili wound up lying on Sigrid, his ear against her collarbone, heartbeat as loud and heavy as a hammer crashing down on his head. There was a film over the window and Fili ran his finger along it, feeling the shudder of Sigrid’s chest as she laughed.

Everything was damp and sticky, the air too thick to breathe in. Fili peeled his hair back from face and listened with his eyes closed as Sigrid’s heart slowed. Neither of them wanted to speak. Any noise they made would break this soft dream, would bring them back down to earth, and the last thing Fili wanted to do was wake up. It didn’t seem _real_ , what they’d just done. He’d only known her for a day and a half and yet… It wasn’t as though he’d never slept with women he’d just met before (that had happened more times than Fili liked to recount), but he couldn’t remember it feeling like _this_ , a connection that went beyond their bodies and the fuck they shared. He liked her more than he’d liked any girl since Ella, and she knew more about him than any of them after just a few hours, even the girls he spent months with in bars and house parties and cheap restaurants. He felt raw, his skin had been scrubbed off and even the lightest breath of air was agony on his exposed flesh.

“What are you thinking about?” Sigrid eventually murmured. One hand sifted gently through his hair, preening his damp curls and winding them around her finger. Fili opened his eyes. The moon had come out from behind the clouds and made the fogged windows shine silver, the twisted shapes of their bodies pale and grey.

“Just…” Fili tried to collect himself and cleared his throat. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“Well,” He wondered how he could phrase it without sounding desperate. “I was thinking about how… I feel like I’ve known you for months– years, even.” Sigrid shifted a little in her seat so she was leaning on her shoulder and looking down at him. “You know more about me than anybody.”

“Really?” Fili nodded. Sigrid sat up at that, and started rearranging her dress, pulling it up over her breasts and back down past her hips. “What?” There was a note of alarm in Fili’s voice and he immediately regretted it. Sigrid brought the seat up and leaned against it. She stared blindly out at the foggy window. There was enough light now to see her throat move as she swallowed.

“Isn’t it… sad?” Fili, who had been stroking her hair, drew back. His jeans were still open. He cleaned himself up and put everything back together and found an empty packet of chips on the ground and got rid of the condom, his heart beating faster as Sigrid kept on speaking. “I mean – you were _engaged_. Did you tell her about Kili? About your family at all?”

“I was going to at first. I kept putting it off, and it never seemed the right time. And then I got scared, thinking she might want to meet them, and I didn’t want that. They weren’t part of my life anymore.” Sigrid fumbled down the back of the seat, looking for her underwear. “So I decided it was better for the both of us that she didn’t know.” Fili slid back into his own seat to Sigrid could dress herself properly, lightly touching the steering wheel. “I had my own life without them. I didn’t– I didn’t _need_ them for anything.”

“Why could you tell me and not her?” She reached out and touched his arm, squeezed for a moment and let go. A cold shiver ran down Fili’s spine.

“Because… you get it.” Fili couldn’t look at her. “You know what we’re like out here. I mean, Mahal, we went to the same high school. We had the same headmaster.” The windows were starting to run clear again, leaking silver moonlight into the car. The radio was still going softly. Sigrid started toying with one of the stars she’d made the day before, listening to him speak in silence. “And you know what it’s like to lose your parents, to have someone to look after, who depends on you even when you feel like you’re just a kid yourself.” Fili rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “And you didn’t fuck it up like I did. You stayed. But I didn’t– I’m such a _coward,_ Sigrid, a selfish fucking coward.” His voice was muffled in the plastic of the wheel. “If Ella knew what I did, she would have made me come back and try to make amends and I– I couldn’t do that. Not ever.”

The silence stretched on. He lit a cigarette and opened the window, feeling jittery and on edge. Just as Fili wondered if there was any way to salvage it, his cellphone rang in his jacket pocket, tinny and muffled. He pulled it out and swore, looking at the time. It was ten past eleven.

“Where the fuck are you?” Nori didn’t wait for Fili to say hello. “Come on, we have a tight schedule here.”

“I’m with a friend–”

“Well, say goodbye to your friend and _hurry._ I want to be settled in before they heat up. You know how this works Fili, we have to show up at the right time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fili swallowed. “I’m coming.”

“Good.” Nori hung up. Fili sighed thrust his phone deep into his pocket, leaning against the headrest with closed eyes. _Shit._

“He sounded angry.” Fili nodded and looked over at her. She was biting her lip, eyes on her legs. “You have to go, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Fili started the car, groaning. “We’re, um, chasing a lead, someone who might know where my brother is. I’m sorry. I’m– I’m just sorry about everything. I shouldn’t have said all that shit to you afterwards. Why spoil a good thing, huh?”

“After-sex cuddling never works in a car.” Her mouth twisted to one side in her wry joke. “No, I’m glad you told me.” Sigrid buckled her seatbelt as Fili started to drive the car down the winding hill. “For what it’s worth. But– you know, you wouldn’t feel like this if you just opened up once in a while. I know you feel guilty about what you’ve done, but holding onto it alone, it’s never going to help. The past doesn’t have to be some ghost hanging over you, Fili.”

He sighed. “Do you think I’m haunted by it?”

“Are you kidding? After everything you’ve told me, how can I _not_ think that? You’re spending your life in Edoras trying to make up for what you’ve done, and you’re keeping your family a secret from the people you should be trusting most and letting the guilt rip you apart. That’s not moving on.” Her voice grew as she spoke, drowning out the radio. “You need to let them go.”

“I have.”

“No, you haven’t.” She shot back sharply. Fili kept his eyes on the dark, winding road. “I can tell. I bet you still think about them, every day. You ran as far as you could but they haven’t left you at all.”

“Of course they haven’t left.” Sigrid turned down the radio so she could hear his whisper. He took his time responding, trying to sort through the jumble of his thoughts. “I’ve gone through the routine – the little green pills and group sessions and rehab courses and all that shit that’s supposed to wring the crazy out of you. And it worked, didn’t it? I’m not dead or locked up or coked out on some junkie’s mattress. I work, I’m getting a degree, I volunteer– shit, I’m a success story. That’s what my counsellor says. He says I should be proud of myself for coming this far.” They were on the main road now, joining the thin trail of headlights. “But I’m a mess. I’m still a fucking mess after all this time and I don’t know why. I did everything right, all the stupid reflection exercises and journals. I’ve never missed a session with my counsellor. But none of it’s _working_.” He fell silent, hands trembling on his steering wheel, blinking as he felt the sting coming on, his vision wobbling. Fili didn’t _mean_ for that all to come spilling out; it wasn’t fair to put it on Sigrid. She didn’t need to know how fucked-up he was.

She didn’t speak much as Fili drove her home. He tried to make awkward small talk as he wove through the crumbling streets, going as fast as he dared, and Sigrid gave distracted, colourless answers. But when he pulled up outside her house, she sat for a few moments, staring down at her hands folded in her lap before heaving her shoulders in a long, long sigh.

“You know,” They were parked beneath a streetlight, shining white on her bare legs. It flickered in and out. “I think you might find things easier if you let others in.” Fili listened, dry-mouthed. “Let people help you. Stop thinking you have to do this alone, and stop beating yourself up about the past. You can’t just wave a magic wand and expect to get better, Fili. You’re just going through the motions.”

“Yeah.” He croaked. “Uh, yeah. You’re right.” Sigrid leaned across and pecked him on the cheek, polite and affection but utterly passionless. She opened the car door, and the little click of the latch filled him with a cold terror. Fili wanted to lock the doors and keep her in. He didn’t want her to leave. After what he’d said, and the cool, distracted way she was acting, Fili had convinced himself that she had thought of this all as one mistake, that she was going to leave for good. “Will, um–” She paused and looked back at him, one leg out of the car. “Will you be free tomorrow?”

“To see you?” Fili nodded. “Of course.” She smiled. “Text me in the morning, yeah? And good luck tonight. I hope you find something.”

“Thanks. I hope so too.” She closed the car door and left him alone, carefully negotiating the broken pavement in her worn-out shoes. Fili groaned and started the car, unable to watch her vanishing back weaving through the darkness, head hurting as he picked apart every word she had said.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a scattering of rain in the streets, enough to make the pavement and the cars beneath the streetlights gleam with thousands of tiny amber gems. Fili closed his eyes and they were still there. The air was thick and stale from cigarette smoke and he wound down the window four or five inches, feeling the cool, damp brush of wind against his forehead, like a mother with a wet towel for a sickly child's fever. It didn’t rain here all that much, especially during the day; instead they endured a dry, bitter heat that browned the grass and baked the ground beneath their feet to grey rock and left riverbeds dry in the summer months. There was always a drought on, always water restrictions and fire bans. It wasn’t like Edoras, which rained constantly; wild and hot in the summer, damp and muggy in the autumn, frozen with sleet in winter and fresh, cool and clear in the spring.

Fili had always liked the rain. He stood and let it pelt down on his coat until his hair hung in damp curls that trickled down his neck, while people around him muttered and popped umbrellas and turned up their collars and held newspapers over his head. Rain had an association of cleanliness to it. It carried away the grime and dirt and shit of the streets, drained the clogged gutters and washed the oil from the road. It made the world new again. The first day of Fili’s freedom, it rained. He waited for a taxi in the rain at the locked gates of the rehab clinic with his paperwork folded in thirds and stuffed in his jacket pocket, the edges getting wet in the downpour. He’d been scrubbed and wiped down and flushed out and checked over and declared Clean And Sober and so they sent him out into the world with a list of safe hostels written down on the back of his therapist’s business card along with information on the nearest NA meetings - every Wednesday at 8PM in the community centre on Princes Street followed with tea and biscuits. And it rained. It poured down and there were no bus shelters to crouch in or awnings or trees to wait under. Fili threw his neck back and felt the raindrops pelt his face and breathed in, and out, and in.

“So, who was she?” Fili jumped. Nori held out his half-empty cigarette packet, his smirk orange in the slanted rectangle of streetlight from the driver’s window. It was two, according to the dashboard clock, and Ori — who refused to be left behind — was sleeping in the backseat, his face buried in a folded arm.

“Huh?” He feigned ignorance, lighting up with his face turned away from Nori. Fili stared intently at the crumpled bag of fried chicken in the gutter, currently being sniffed at by a mangy-looking cat. But there was no fooling Nori it seemed. Fili endured the sniggering for a few moments before shuffling in his seat, leaning against the headrest.

“You reek of sex and cheap weed.” Nori rested his chin on the steering wheel, and Fili wondered how long he’d been waiting to say something. Perhaps he was hoping for Ori to fall asleep all this time. “So who is she? Or are you more like your brother?”

“No.” Fili’s voice was came out sharper than he meant it to be, and he winced. “No,” he repeated, softer, “it was a girl.”

“Oh? Did you know her from before you left?” Fili shook his head. “That was quick.”

“I picked her up on the highway to Khamûlor on the way here. We got talking and… hit it off, I guess.” He toyed with his lighter, more receptive to Nori but still keeping his eyes on the cracked pavement. “She’s nice. Young, too young for me, probably, but she’s smart. I like her.”

“Oh, Mahal, it starts.” Nori cracked. “Gonna love her and leave you? I’d say that doesn’t seem like you but I can just see you beating yourself up over something like that. Self-loathing suits you.”

“Thanks.” Fili flicked his ash into Nori’s overflowing ashtray. “See anything interesting yet?” He was talking about the overflowing house two lots down, with people clustered on the porch and stairs, milling about on the street. It was one of those uncertain streets on the edge of the business district and the suburbs, part buildings, part weatherboard houses with paved front yards just a few feet wide and very little space between them.

“I don’t know this crowd.” Nori craned his neck to see. “You know this is a long shot, right? Affiliates, not the gang itself. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“I know.” Fili leaned his temple against the window, cool against his hair. “I just want _something_. I feel like we’re just going around in fucking circles here. How hard is it to get a handle on these guys?”

“Hey, rock up to the nearest dive bar and ask around. Be my guest.” Nori shot back sharply. “Do you want to wind up in the bottom of the River Running with cement blocks died to your ankles? If you want any chance of getting your brother back, we gotta be smart about this.” Fili stared ahead, blankly, and said nothing. Nori sighed. “Look, I know you’re frustrated. I am too. I _liked_ the kid, believe it or not. Kili just got caught up in a lot of shit. But we’ll find him, all right?”

“Fuck, Nori,” Fili crushed the stub of his cigarette out, already itching for another one, “I won’t live with myself if we can’t.”

* * *

They smoked incessantly, spoke quietly when they had the strength, drank coffee and soda and fought back the urge to piss. A few orcs came and went from time to time; most knocked on the door, waited, and then either went inside and didn’t come out again or handed a wad of four twenties over and got a tiny baggie in return. Blatant dealing, and Fili was surprised to see crystal being sold so openly. There were a few nasty-looking orcs with a dozen or so piercings in their faces with warg’s head jackets going in, and Fili waited with bated breath for one of them to come out.

Around four, Ori woke up again and sleepily mumbled if they’d seen anything. He was so tired from the sleepless nights and the constant fretting that he was barely coherent. Nori pulled out a hip flask of whisky and told him to drink up and get nice and sleepy, but Ori refused.

“How do you know what you’re looking for?” Ori rested his chin on Fili’s seat and his elbow on the other. Nori, who was texting, looked up from his burner phone, face green in the neon light.

“You just know. Heavies, brains, cooks — they stick out. There’s a look about them, not like these junkie coattailers.” Nori was still texting, working by touch. “Hey, maybe I’ll even find someone I recognise.”

“Are we gonna follow them right to their hideout?” Ori whispered. Nori grunted and thrust his phone in the console beneath the radio, where it nestled with five others in the little plastic hollow.

“If we can.” Nori drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Fuck, Ori, stop breathing down my neck. Calm _down_ and sit back.”

“I just want _something_ to happen.” Fili groaned. “I hate this. I was never patient enough for this line of work.”

“Both of you, shut up.” Nori snarled. “Can’t you just be patient? I’m trying to—”

“Hey.” Ori leaned forward, peering through the darkness. One of the orcs had left — some hanger-on that Nori had instantly dismissed, lurching in the street. “ _Hey_ , I know him!”

“What are you talking about?” Nori followed his gesture. “Him? The drunk?”

“Yeah. Its— It’s dark, but I think it’s him. I saw, um…” Ori exhaled deeply. “I saw Kili with him, maybe a month before he went missing. I _think_ it was him. Yeah, he had that jacket with the red sleeves.”

Nori perked up. “You saw him with Kili? Where?”

“Burger Box, you know, the one downtown by the old bus station. They were talking together outside on one of the benches. They both had take-out bags, but they weren’t eating. I was going past on the bus and I wanted to stop and say hi, but there was something off with Kili. He was all jittery and cagey and kept looking around. I just assumed he was on something and I _hate_ being around him when he’s high. Pot is fine, but whenever he has anything else, he’s so edgy and paranoid and the slightest thing will send him flying in a rage.” Nori and Fili were exchanging meaningful glances now, the whites of their eyes shining in the murky light.

“Bag swap?” Fili asked. Of course Ori didn’t get it. He was so innocent, so protected. Nori and Dori had done such a good job with him. They didn’t fuck it up like Fili had. “Pound in one, cash in the other?”

“In plain sight. The little shit.” Nori muttered, watching as a taxi slowed down beside the staggering orc, who was waving him down. “Buckle in, Ori.”

“Do you know him too?” Ori asked as he started the car.

“Dumûl.” Nori’s eyes were locked on the taxi as it began to rumble down the street. “That fucker is one Kili’s been selling to. What you drove by was a drug deal worth about forty thousand dollars.”

The car lurched and Ori was thrown back, squeaking. The streets were quiet and Nori kept a block behind, trying not to look obvious. The taxi headed out west into an orcish ghetto where the apartment windows had bars on them and nobody parked their cars in the street. The exhaustion and the burning need to go evaporated as Nori followed the taxi, and Fili felt wired up like a car battery, eyes wide and heart pounding in his throat.

“Don’t worry,” Nori muttered as the taxi turned a corner and was briefly out of sight. “I got the bastard, you see.” He caught up, running a red and getting dangerously close to looking suspicious as his tyres squealed on a hard corner. “He’s not getting away.”

They caught up and watched from four lots down as the cab pulled up outside an ugly three-storey apartment building, the state-built kind in a big ‘U’ and a playground in the middle that was graffitied and broken. A few lights were on and there was a distant thud of loud hip-hop music from the third floor, but it was otherwise still and silent. Fili held his breath, watching as Dumûl staggered out of the car and into the lot. The Phantom wasn’t quite close enough to see and Nori inched forward, craning his neck and hissing at Ori to back off and give him some fucking breathing space. Dumûl lurched up the concrete stairs and along the outside accessway. Under the flickering scones bolted to the bricks that hadn’t been smashed, the orc lolled against the third door along on the second floor, searching for his keys. All three dwarves leaned forward and watched Dumûl finally get the front door open and stagger inside. One light flicked on inside, the edges of the drawn curtains glowing yellow.

“Well,” Nori leaned back with a sigh. “There’s our lead, all right.”

“OK. OK, I got it.” Fili unbuckled his seatbelt. “Third along. Just let me—”

“Hey, _hey,”_ Nori gripped his shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m gonna get some answers out of him.”

“What, bust his door down at three in the morning? Do you know who else lives here? Do you know if he’s alone? He could have a partner in there, or a girl, or his Ma or Mahal knows what else.”

“You know who else he could have in there? _Kili._ ” His voice was low and ragged.

Nori scoffed. “They’re not gonna keep him at some two-bit dealers pad. You know how these crews run. You’re not going in now. Look, let’s just go back to Ori’s, get some sleep and tackle it in the morning.” There was a hard finality in his voice, and the other two knew there would be no pushing or shifting him. “Place like this, what are you thinking?” Nori muttered as he pulled a U-turn in the dark street. “You and Kili, you can be as stupid as each other sometimes, you know that?”

* * *

Fili picked up his car and followed Nori back to Ori’s apartment. Nori took one look at Fili and insisted he take the bed with Ori and at least try for a good night’s sleep. It was a tall twin, with a foot-and-a-half extra below their feet and enough space for Fili and Ori to lie on their backs without touching. Fili picked his way through the mess of dirty clothes and socks and magazines tossed carelessly from the bed and empty packets of chips and power cables and all the other shit that seemed to accumulate on a bedroom floor. The other side of the bed was piled with junk, but Ori pushed it carelessly onto the ground and told Fili to go on ahead. He went to the bathroom with his pajamas under his arm and as Fili sat on the edge of the bed he noticed the digital camera charging on the bedside table.

Curiously, he picked it up and turned it on. It wasn’t Ori’s good camera, with the massive lens and leather case that he insisted nobody else could touch, just a cheap thing to take out in town and shove in his pocket. Most of the photos looked like that; small groups of friends at dinner or on the riverside, some landscapes from a hike in the hills. Then there was a picture of Kili. Fili stopped and squinted at the cluster of pixels on the tiny screen. He looked like he was at some sort of dive bar with a beer in front of him, laughing. It was a year ago, according to the timestamp in the corner of the screen. Mahal, just a year ago, and he looked so much younger. His face was the way Fili remembered it, soft and rounded. He’d just shaved the day before and a shadow of stubble darkened his jaw, eyes crinkling in the corner as he grinned. Fili kept going, finding more and more until he stumbled across one of Kili in bed, lying on his back with an arm thrown over his face and the blankets at his waist. It was the same duvet he was sitting on now. With his heart aching, Fili realised it was a video. Part of him wanted to put the camera down. It could be one of _those_ videos. Kili was definitely arrogant and reckless enough to put himself out there on film and of course Ori would take it. But he just wanted to _see_ Kili, to hear his voice again, to see him when he was happy and young. Fili glanced at the door to make sure it was closed, and pressed play.

“Mm,” Kili mumbled, burying his face on the pillow as the blanket slipped a little further down his hips. “‘Ri, are you still asleep?” He peeked through the crook of his arm and started. “Ori!”

“Oh, damn it—”

“You _perv_ , I can’t believe you!” Kili tried to snatch the camera away. “Give it here!"

“No!” The camera fell and at an angle, half-obscured by the crumpled sheets, Fili watched as Kili wrestled Ori into the mattress. They were both laughing now, tangled in the sheets and mock-playfighting, the camera utterly forgotten. When Kili leaned in to kiss Ori, his tangled hair falling over his shoulders, and the laughter turned into a soft groan, Fili switched it off and put it back on the bedside table. By the time Ori emerged, Fili was in bed, staring up at the ceiling with his arms folded over his chest, wondering how his brother could hollow out and crumble so quickly.

“I don't think I'll be able to sleep." Ori admitted as he crawled into bed. His grey-ringed eyes stared up at the ceiling, fingers occasionally twitching at his side. "I can't stop thinking about... everything."

Fili swallowed. "Me too." Ori shuffled uncomfortably in bed, as though he was working up the nerve to speak.

"This is going to sound awful," Ori sniffed, "but I don't know what I'm more afraid of sometimes — finding him or not finding him."

Fili reached out in bed and squeezed the kid's shoulder, his chest tight with a second-hand guilt for what his brother had done. "Why?"

"Because—" Ori's voice broke. "Because I don't think he loves me anymore." Fili listened in silence, toes curling beneath the unclean sheets as he stared at a spot on the ceiling. “When he said it wasn't working out, I begged and begged him to just call it a break, to give him space to breathe. I thought it— it could make him realise how much be needed me. But I could see it in his face, Fili. It was over for him. He was just trying to spare my feelings." Ori wiped hurriedly at his face and paused to breathe. "A-And I feel so terrible and self-centered because he could be dead for all we know, but all I can think about is how awful it's going to be when he tells me it's really over."

"Ori," Fili sat up with his hands clasped. "I don't know what to say—"

"You don't have to. I know. I know. And another part of me — and I think this is the worst of all —  a part of me is _relieved_ that it's over. I've suffered so much for him, Fili. I can't tell people what he's done, because if Nori found out, he wouldn't help you save him."

Fili's heart was thudding dully in his chest. "What things?" Ori rolled onto his side to look at him, shaking his head. "Please, Ori. I won't tell a soul. I have to know."

"He lies, all the time about where he is. I'm pretty he's slept with others— girls. Not often. I said it was fine, because it's not like I have what they do, you know? Lots of bi guys have boyfriends and girlfriends at the same time. And he always came back to _me_ , so I was happy, usually. He said he loved me." Fili shook his head as he listened, balling his hands into fists.

"But there's other stuff- worse stuff. He's stolen from me." Ori pulled the sheet over his mouth. "Cellphones, money, green. He's always smoking and snorting every cent he has and then he gets desperate for a fix. He stole my good camera three months ago. He'll never admit it, but I know it was him. I lied to Nori and said I left it out on the backseat of my car and someone nicked it so he’d buy me another one. I tried to confront Kili about it but he was high and denied everything and..." Ori sat up now, rubbing at his leaking eyes.

"What?" Fili begged, feeling sick as he guessed what Ori was trying to say. “Ori, was he… ever violent to you?”

“You mean, did he hit me? No. Never. He only— There was only that one time, wh-when I said I knew he stole my camera. Kili got angry and pushed me away and I knocked my head on the corner of the table. It was bleeding all over the place and he tried to help, but his hands were shaking so much and he wasn’t helping, so I told him to go away. He didn't even remember doing it the next morning. He was so sorry. He said that was it and he was never touching hard stuff again." Ori's head was in his bony hands. "It lasted about a week or so. Longer than I thought it would."

“O-Oh.” Fili’s throat closed and he couldn’t think of anything to say. What could he say? Sorry his brother was such a fuck-up? Sorry he went away and left Kili to fester and rot in the hands of people he knew would tear Kili to pieces in search of what they wanted?

“He’s not a bad person. He was never a bad person. At worst, he was thoughtless.” Ori spoke plaintively through his splayed fingers. “It’s just… when that _stuff_ gets in his head, Fili, it does things. And he just— he was trying so hard to be like them, you know? I know it’s not much of an excuse, and I know it’s so pathetic of me to sit here after he’s been so awful to me just because I _love_ him. Love’s never a reason to keep being hurt. He’s left me a wreck. I can’t keep trying to look after him and change him when he doesn’t want it.” He lowered his hands and stared blanky at the wall across from him at an abstract art print. "I don't know what I'm going to do, but I-I can’t keep living like this.”


	6. Chapter 6

When Fili and Ori got up, they found Nori had already gone, leaving a note scribbled on  the back of a shopping receipt and taped to the coffee maker. _Got shit to do first. Stay inside until I get back._ Ori made coffee for them both while Fili smoked, folding the paper as many times as he could until it was a little grey knot that slipped out of his fingers and rolled under the table.

“I’m sure he won’t be long.” Ori murmured apologetically, bringing two mugs of black coffee over to the table. “Don’t even bother texting him. He never checks his phone. We’ll just wait. I’ve got season six of _Half Baked_ on video. I know it’s awful, but it keeps your mind off things—”

“No.” Fili cut him off, crushing out his cigarette and immediately lighting another. “I’m not sitting here and watching some stoner comedy while Kili is out there. Not when I have a lead.” Ori chewed on his lower lip. He sat with his shoulders hunched, bony fingers curled around a steaming mug. “Are you coming with me?"

Ori looked up. His face was hollowing out, the orange stubble thickening, creeping up his cheeks. "Yeah." He left his mug and crossed the linoleum floor, getting on his footstool. On the top shelf in the cabinet over the sink he took out an old tin of digestives. Fili watched as he got down and crossed the kitchen again. He did all of this silently. The tin was spotted with rust at the top, with a lurid cartoon of young girls playing hockey painted on one side, boys playing rugby on the other. Ori popped the lid and Fili held his breath as he pulled out a handgun and a thick wad of twenties.

"Kili gave it to me." Ori set the gun down on the table and Fili picked it up, feeling the familiar solid weight in his hand for the first time in years. It was a slick piece, automatic with a short barrel and it looked like it had a hell of a kick. "Do you have any sort of plan?" Ori flipped through the folded bundle of cash, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Fili nodded. "I say we go pay our old mate Dumûl a visit."

He borrowed an old pair of jeans from Ori and ripped up the knees, smearing mud from the gutter all over his legs. From a thrift shop in a shady strip mall, Fili found a grey zip-up hoodie with an oil stain on the front for five dollars. He combed his hair with his fingers until it stood on end, poured a little bourbon over himself and ran up and down the street a few times until he was sweating and his clothes were damp and reeking.

“You look like a proper junkie," Ori reassured Fili as he sat in the car, examining himself critically in the rear view mirror. “I'd cross the street to get away from you."

“My teeth are too clean." Fili muttered. “I had them fixed a couple of years ago. He'll know I'm not legit if he sees them."

"Just don't smile." Ori was driving along the main drag towards the ghetto in the east side. "He probably gets random methheads knocking all the time."

Fili put his hand in his pocket and traced the barrel of the gun. "Keep a look out for me. With any luck, I won't need you. Just stay in the car and be my eyes and ears."

Ori nodded. “Want me to text you if Nori calls?" They were getting close now, turning off the urban highway, Ori drove past a boarded-up gas station, the front plastered with unreadable graffiti.

"No." Fili pulled the gun out of his pocket, turned it over and over in his hands, and, on second thought, tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, right in the hollow of his back. "We'll call him after. Know where you're going?"

"Mm-hm. I have a good friend out here, down at the trailer park by the old railway station." Ori kept an eye on the road.

"Huh, I didn't think any dwarves lived on this side of town."

"Oh, he's not a dwarf." Ori grinned. "He's an orc. He's really sweet, though. You know they're not all bad. I'm sure you have orc friends in Edoras." Fili leaned his temple against the vibrating window. "I met him at this support group for bullied gay kids a couple of years ago. He lives with his mum and his kid, working two jobs and studying engineering. I seriously don't know how he does it."

"I have too much on my plate without a kid." Fili remarked. “I can't even look after myself, let alone someone else." He sighed heavily. "That's why I'm here in the first place."

"Wasn't just you." Ori said quietly. “I let Kili down too. It's not your job to babysit him from half a world away."

"He's my little brother." Fili swallowed hard. "Of course it's my job to look after him."

Ori dropped him off a couple of blocks away. There was a convenient store just around the corner from Dumûl's apartment, so Ori bought a giant slushie and ate it outside the car. Fili saw him twirling the straw in the massive plastic cup as he walked past.

Acting strung-out was easy enough to remember. Fili walked with his shoulders hunched and hood pulled up, despite the cheerful sunshine, constantly looking over his shoulder and wiping at his nose. There were a couple of kids hanging out in the dilapidated playground, a meaty orc working on his car pulled up on the curb, a gaggle smoking in the outside walkway on the top floor. Nobody paid him any attention. He felt the steel warm in the small of his back as he walked, sweat still gleaming on his forehead from his run. One of the kids on the swings shouted at him in orcish slang, and Fili ignored him. The others laughed. He crossed the dirt plot of a courtyard and started up the stairs, eyes locked on Dumûl's front door.

He knocked rapidly, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking from side to side. Behind the door, he heard low swearing, the click of a gun cocking. There was no intercom, just a cracked peephole. Fili chanced a look upwards, scratching at some imaginary itch on his face.

The door opened a crack, a thick chain pulled taught, and the thick barrel of a shotgun emerged through the gap. Fili held his breath. "The fuck you want?" A disembodied voice rasped.

"Hey," Fili leaned in, giving his best hoarse whisper. "Heard you're selling. How much for a teenth? All I need, just a little teenth."

"Who sent you?" The gun clicked. "I don't sell to fucking _dwarves_."

"Look man, I don't want trouble." Fili begged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Just one bump. Come on. I’ll pay whatever you want.” The gun disappeared, and Fili watched the door open an inch further. He caught a narrowed, pale eye in the shadows, the twisted flash of a snarl. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

“Listen,” Dumûl growled. “I’m not selling on my front door. I don’t shit where I eat, dwarf. There’s an alley around the corner, behind the old barber’s. Meet me there in half an hour, and I want a hundred for wasting my time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fili swallowed. “Whatever you want. Hundred's good, I can go a hundy.”

“Fuck off, then.” The door slammed shut. Fili let out a long breath. He walked back down the stairs and rounded the corner before calling Ori, crouching behind a postbox just in case Dumûl could see him.

“He’s meeting me in half an hour in an alley behind some barber.” Fili muttered. “He doesn’t keep anything at his house in case he’s ever raided. Smart.” Fili watched, chewing on his thumbnail, as Dumûl slipped out of his apartment, swinging a leather jacket over his shoulders as he ran down the stairs. “He’s on the move.”

“What are you going to do?” Ori’s voice was small and tinny on the cheap phone, crackling with occasional static.

“I’m going to get answers.” A distant engine rumbled — some old junk bike, the pipes rattling. “I want you to park up where you can see the entrance. If you see anyone heading towards me, call me. I won’t pick up, but I’ll get the message. I’ll give you a unique ringtone.”

“O-OK.” Ori’s voice wavered slightly. “Fili, are you sure about this? It’s not too late. We could just go back home and—”

“No.” Fili was low and fierce. “I’m not waiting for Nori to stop pissing around anymore. Just stay in the car. I’m not leaving without a name and a place at the very least. And I’ll get it. I know I will. See you.”

While he waited, Fili smoked, leaning against the cracked brick wall and watching a mangy-looking cat poke around in the dumpster. He clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers, but the creature hissed at him and ran away. Forty minutes after he’d answered Fili at the door, Dumûl showed up, hands in his pockets. “Show me the money.” He wore his piece proudly on his hip, gleaming in a sunbeam.

Fili held out five crumpled twenties between his forefinger and thumb. Their eyes locked, blue and grey, and Fili could feel his heart thudding, the swell of blood race along his limbs and his fingers until they throbbed and the tattered bill was trembling. Dumûl snatched it away, held it up to the light to check the watermark and pulled a tiny bag out of his pocket. He threw it on the ground so Fili had to scrabble for it, sniggering. Fili play-acted at desperation, popping the seal, pressing it against his nose and breathing in. He knew what cheap meth smelled like; an acrid, burning stench, familiar to flaming plastic. This wasn’t like that at all. It was clean, pure and perfect, like wet metal, like an untouched swimming pool on a cool morning, like a forest fog after a long, raining night. He felt the slow wave of nostalgia roll up him, aching. It was like hearing a favourite old song, seeing a friend from years ago walk past on the street, like smelling a favourite grandmother’s special dessert on a drowsy summer evening. Fili’s eyes drooped, half-lidded, and he breathed in again, his mouth watering as he kneeled on the ground in his filthy ripped jeans.

It was Balin’s, all right. Fili looked up, licking his lips. He tried to clear his head as the urge pricked in the back of his neck, biting down and burrowing inside. Dumûl turned and made to go, satisfied with the trade. Fili clenched the meth in his fist, felt his nails bite into his palm, and hauled himself up to his feet.

“G-Good stuff.” He cleared his throat, shuffled again from one foot to the other. There was an old bit of sprinkler pipe leaning against the wall by the dumpster, about two inches thick and caked with rust. “Real good. Where’d you get it?” Dumûl grunted and looked over his shoulder at him.

“Contacts." He grunted. "Go smoke your crystal and get the fuck out of  my alley." He made to leave when Fili struck. He grabbed the rusting metal and swung it against the orc's head, sending him sprawling on the ground.

"Hey! What the fuck—" He reached for his gun, but Fili pulled his out from his jeans and aimed it right between Dumûl's eyes.

“Don't you dare." He spat, cocking the pistol with a chilling click. All pretence was dropped, and now Fili was razor-sharp. Slowly, Dumûl slid his hand back from his holster and onto the ground, palms spread. Blood trickled down the side of his face, but his grey stare was fierce and furious.

“You aren't just some junkie." Dumûl growled. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Fili crouched down and slowly pulled the gun from Dumûl's holster, tucking it in his back. "I know you didn't cook that crystal yourself." He spoke softly, the threat heavy in his voice. “I know what Durin-baked meth looks and smells like." Dumûl snarled back at him, haughty and unafraid. “So I'll ask you one more time. Where did you get it from?"

"Go fuck a troll." He spat on the ground between Fili's feet. "I'm no rat."

"Wrong answer." With his face impassive and hand rock-steady, Fili aimed the gun at Dumûl's left knee and pulled the trigger. He was mercilessly accurate in his precision, shattering the kneecap as the whipcrack of the bullet rocked the air. Dumûl howled and clutched at his wounded knee, the cry breaking in his throat as Fili pressed the barrel of the gun against his right knee.

"You think I'm playing around?" Dumûl groaned, shaking uncontrollably as blood gushed from his leg. A misshapen pool of black was growing on the cracked concrete. “Where did you get it, Dumûl?"

Grey eyes flashed. "Thorin’s screw-up nephew, a-all right? He's been selling to me for months. I swear, I never stole a gram! You gotta believe me!"

"I heard a gunshot!" Fili inwardly groaned as Ori ran into the alley. “Fili, are you all right?"

"F-Fili?" Dumûl repeated shakily, looking from one to the other, blood gushing through his fingers.

"Take this." Fili pulled out Dumûl's gun, not breaking eye contact with the orc. With a gasp of shock at the blood, Ori obeyed. "If he moves a muscle, shoot him in the head."

"Look, if you're after Kili, I don't know where he is." Dumûl begged. "He's— You're his brother, right?"

"That's right." Fili pushed the barrel deeper into his knee. “I know all about your deals, and I know you've been passing the product along to the Wargs. You should have cooperated when you had the chance."

"I promise you, I have no idea where he is! I don't talk to anyone, just this guy down at the old smelter by the river. He gives me cash and I hand over the meth and that's it! I've never seen any patched  members! I don't know shit about them!" He panted, clinging to his wounded knee as the blood kept spreading further and further outwards.

Blood splattered his face as Fili pulled the trigger, another piercing cry filling the air. Ori yelped, torn between running away and intervening as Fili pressed the barrel of his own pistol square between Dumûl's eyes. “You're a shit actor, Dumûl." Dumûl sobbed, clutching at two shattered knees, face pale. "Just last night you were partying at a Warg safehouse not too far from here, weren't you?" Dumûl was unable to speak through his ragged gasps for air. "Weren't you?"

"Yes!" He finally choked out. "But I don't know—"

Fili shut him up, cocking the gun. "If you say 'I don't know' one more time, I'll blow your brains out. _Where is my brother?_ "

"All right, they have a warehouse down in the industrial complex, o-over by the tracks. It's across from the old Bazub cannery. They've blacked out the windows and put razor wire around the fence. You can't miss it. Please, don't kill me." He croaked, shaking uncontrollably as his words grew shorter and more fragmented. "D-Don't kill me."

"Fili!" Ori whispered, his hands trembling as he held the gun. His voice was thick. "Stop this!"

With his heart pounding in his ears, Fili stood up. Everything had happened so fast and just now Fili was starting to catch up to it. He stared with a muted, fractured horror at what he had done, the familiar surge of adrenaline that came only with the crack of a gunshot flooding his senses fading, growing dull. Dumûl looked up at him with a crumpled fear, his hands slack and breath punctuated by harsh, wracking sobs of agony as he weakly clutched at his broken legs. This _thing_ was the reason his brother had been kidnapped and tortured, the reason why he was here, the reason for this ugly, devastating reversal of his soul, bringing him back to a place he thought he’d left forever.

"I have to get help. We can't just leave him." Oh, Ori. Fili knew in an instant why his brother liked him. Innocent and distraught, he stood with his mouth open, the gun hanging limply from his hand.

"You're right." Fili looked at the orc, gasping up at him. Dumûl knew; it was written in his eyes, the blind terror. "We can't just leave him." Part of him begged for it, for something quicker and cleaner than what the Wargs would do to him when they inevitably found out he'd betrayed them.

It was both vengeance and mercy that made Fili pull the trigger. He did it with skillful precision, right in the middle of his shining forehead. A hitman's kill. There was a release in his chest, a wire pulled to breaking point which snapped. He was doing this for Kili, and in that moment he felt no remorse for what he had done. In reality, he didn't feel anything.  Ori screamed and dropped the gun, sinking to his knees with his hands clapped over his mouth.  

"I told you," Fili spoke lowly, looking at the splattered oval of dripping black and grey against the red paint of the dumpster, "to stay in the car."

Ori sobbed.

* * *

Three garden waste bags, extra-strength, a coil of plastic rope and half a dozen heavy rocks from the riverbank. Fili dumped the body downriver, an hour south when it began to wind into the hills and the jagged skyline disappeared in a haze of yellow and blue. It wouldn't hold up forever — in six months, maybe a year, the corpse would break free from its plastic-wrapped coffin and emerge in the water, bloated and rotting, flesh peeling away in strips. They'd x-ray his teeth, find dental records, ask a few questions, and without any DNA or prints, close the case. There were enough floaters on the coroner's desk, and Dumûl was nothing special.

Fili drove back to Ori's and got their clothes in a plastic bag, instructing Ori to scrub every inch of himself until he was squeaky clean. He fixed them both stiff whiskies, which they drank at the table. Ori's teeth clattered against the glass.

"Hey," Fili reached across the table and seized his wrist. The afternoon sun poured through the open blinds, and neither of them had heard from Nori. "It's all right. Just calm down."

"C-Calm down?" Ori was chalk-white beneath his patchy stubble. “I witnessed—” He broke off, voice high and frightened, and lowered himself to a whisper. “I-I witnessed a murder and helped dispose of the body. I’m an _accessory._ ”

“No one is going to come after you. No one will suspect you. Even if you were seen, you have a friend in the area, right? There you go, that’s your alibi.” Fili was stiff and mechanical, speaking and thinking and feeling totally removed from everything that had happened. It was already like a dream, an old, faded memory.

“How could you do this?” Ori took a heavy gulp of liquor and sputtered, wiping at his mouth. “How could you just _shoot_ him like that? You’re just like them! You tortured him, Fili. He told you everything he knew and you still killed him! You—”

“I am _not_ just like them. I did it for a reason. If I didn’t kill him, someone else would have. People like Dumûl never last long.” Fili snarled against the rim. “He is the reason Kili is missing. He is the one that’s been feeding information to the Wargs.” Ori shook his head. Obviously it wasn’t enough. “Ori,” Fili set down his empty glass, “if I had let him go, what would have happened, do you think? Here’s what he would have done. He would have gone to the Wargs, who would have killed him for what he told me, and it would be a damn sight more painful." Ori held his gaze, indignant and disbelieving. "Then they would've moved Kili, somewhere he'd never be found, way out of town, or they would have just killed him outright. Dumûl had to go."

"I didn't want this." Ori didn't cry; he was dried out, brittle as desert bones. “Nori wouldn't have done this."

"Not directly," Fili poured himself another glass of whisky, sloshing a little onto the table as his hand shook, "but the outcome would have been just the same."

* * *

Just after three, Fili left Ori on his couch with the whisky. The angry silence got to him. It wriggled in through his ears and mouth and eyes, seeped into the pores of skin until Fili felt rotten and poisoned. The incompleteness suffocated him, worming into his brain and after half an hour of staring at his shoes and listening to Ori breathe heavily while the TV pattered on in the background Fili couldn't take it anymore. So he went somewhere he hasn't been since six months before he first left. He went to Temple.

It was a squat, grey little building, unassuming in an otherwise empty lot of well-kept grass and a couple of trees with a generous car park. But then, it was all underground. The house was just a doorway.

It was a ritual, or perhaps a habit, adopted by his family at Thror's behest. Thror, with his old-world conservatism, who insisted on a full traditional wedding for his gun-slinging  granddaughter, who followed scripture to the letter while exploiting every loophole possible to keep his business uncorrupted, had donated half his fortune to this temple over the years  (with a sizeable behest on his deathbed that the Mahalists reportedly used to hire a team of lobbyists and ensure the Religious Freedoms Act would pass, despite widespread public injection). Thror wasn't the only dwarf to have a burst of religious fervour as the town crumbled around his ears, but he was undoubtedly the dirtiest.

It was foolish to come. Fili knew it, and yet he couldn't stay away. Years of training, of listening to prayers and sermons, of Thrain's mumbling and maniacal rants, had instilled a fear, if not exactly spirituality, into Fili's heart. Despise the long shower, Fili wasn't clean. The stench of his crimes clung to him, swelled as he breathed in. He had to cleanse himself at the altar, purify his soul and wash the sin away.

Mahal, after all, could be a vengeful god.

At the bottom of the stairs, Fili took off his shoes and socks, laying them to rest on the wide, empty rack bolted to the wall. The bare stone was cold against his feet. Some temples had modernised, installed under-floor heating beneath a thin layer of tile and called it authentic, but the Mahalists of Shulkahar were unfailing traditionalists. Fili walked through into the massive hall lit by thousands of electric lights disguised as candles. Rows and rows of backless stone benches lay waiting, the walls covered in runic poems with interlocking, geometric borders. The giant statue of Mahal dominated the front of the hall, his life-giving hammer slung over his shoulder. Two broad stone basins lay side by side at his feet. Through the latticed stonework behind the statue, Fili heard the drone of a priest in eternal prayer, his voice hoarse and throaty after decades of constant recitation. It sent a shiver down his spine. Now that he was here again, it seemed to solidify the reality of what he’d done.

Before the statue, Fili sank to his knees. He pressed his palms flat on the stone, lightly touched his forehead to the ground in a gesture of humility, and mumbled a stilted, half-forgotten blessing. When he was done, he reached into his pocket and pulled out Kili’s money. A thousand dollars in twenties, five of the notes rumpled and spattered with flecks of blood. Ori insisted he didn’t want it, not with Dumûl’s blood everywhere, and Fili knew he could never keep it. It wasn’t his. He tried not to think about what this money could do for him — catch him up on the rent, buy the textbooks he needed, get the fan belt replaced. It was too tempting to dwell on.

Instead, he used it to pay off his soul-debt. There were never fixed amounts, and it varied from dwarf to dwarf, but this, Fili hoped, would be enough. Enough for what? He wasn’t spiritual, not when the fabric of the world had been broken down to atoms and molecules and everything divine could be calculated with a scientific equation. This was an absolution of the mind and soul. It was a consolation.

Fili turned his attention to the broad stone basin. It was filled with water, crystal clear and ice-cold, imported an underground spring deep in Moria, their spiritual homeland. It was protected now, collected only for spiritual purposes after orcs contaminated the central reservoir while bottling it as a luxury spa product. Fili hissed at the cold as he plunged his hands in the water.

There were still ridges of black beneath his nails, magnified in the water. Sloppy. Fili’s throat closed, and he picked at them, feeling the cuticles soften. The slightly-higher salt content apparently did wonders for the skin. He watched the threads of black dissipate in the water, and with a long, long sigh closed his eyes.

_You’re just like them_. He could picture Ori now, sharp and accusing, his wide hazel eyes refusing to well up as his voice shook. Ori was right. Fili hadn’t changed. No matter how far he ran, no matter how long he languished in his self-imposed exile, no matter how many old habits he tried to break, Fili hadn’t changed, not really. The Durin in him was still there, merciless, calculating, cruel and clever. No amount of recovery or therapy or rehabilitation could recode his genes. Nothing could undo the past.

Footsteps approached. The dwarf behind the screen was still praying. Fili froze, staring down at his hands as he listened. Not the soft shuffle of bare feet, but the hard, authoritative clack of boots on stone. Someone who didn’t give a damn for the rules. Fili knew in an instant who it was. No one else would be so audacious, so sacrilegious, as to come in here wearing heavy boots. Horror rose in his chest and his mouth went dry. He lifted his hands out of the water and wiped them on his jeans, calculating his next move, wondering what he could say to explain himself, bursting with a thousand questions, brimming with a hatred and anger that made his heart pound in his throat.

Fili drew in a deep breath. “Thorin.”


	7. Chapter 7

Thorin stood with his arms crossed, staring down his hard, beaky nose at Fili, sharp eyes gleaming. Fili got to his feet slowly, gaze never shifting from his uncle’s face, hands loose at his sides.

“Why are you here?” Fili didn’t grovel. The time for that was done. He stood with his back straight and his chin lifted up, looking totally unafraid.

“I should ask you the same question.” Thorin’s voice was short, measured and even, not skipping a beat. “I told you to leave town.”

“We both know that was never going to happen.” Fili said softly. “I would never leave Kili. I’m not _you._ ” He took a step towards his uncle, keeping his back straight. “I know what he’s done, Thorin. You think he betrayed you, but he was just trying to help, in his naive, fucked-up way. All he ever wanted was to please you.”

“Please me?” Thorin scoffed. “All he’s done is embarrass our name.”

Fili tensed. “That’s no reason to abandon him, Thorin. He’s still your nephew.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes and tilted his head very slightly to one side, looking Fili up and down. “Do you honestly think this is still about Kili?”

“What are you—”

“Come on.” Thorin jerked his head towards the door. “We’re taking a drive.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Fili spat viciously.

In a swift, fluid motion, Thorin fished his gun out from the holster in his belt, a small snub-nosed revolver with a handle of pearl, and pointed it right at his face. His expression was still completely blank. “Come for a drive, Fili.”

His hands shook as he pulled on his shoes and socks, and Fili kept looking over his shoulder, wary of any sudden movements. Of course Thorin would bring a gun into Temple, the arrogant bastard. Fili wished he hadn’t left his in the glovebox of the car, but Thrain’s infectious spiritual fervour was hard to break. He followed Thorin outside and into the lot, where Thorin’s sleek black muscle car was parked across four spaces. Fili stopped, and Thorin pushed him in the small of the back with the barrel of his gun. “Keep walking.”

There was no thought of running. The revolver was pushed into his spine. One false move and Thorin would pull the trigger — instant paraplegic for life, that is, if he survived the blood loss and Thorin didn’t shoot him in the head for good measure. Thorin opened the car door and Fili got in obediently, sitting with his hands balled into fists at his lap.

“What do you mean, this isn’t about Kili?” Fili asked as Thorin started the car. He swept the interior with his eyes, searching for any possible weapons, but it was immaculately clean. Of course it was.  “He’s the one missing.”

“Not entirely true.” Thorin said crisply, pulling out onto the road. What did that mean? Did Thorin know where he was, or was he implying that somebody else had also vanished? His demeanour was so different here, with just the two of them alone together. Slowly, Fili was realising that the shouting and raving in front of Thrain was an act; if he wanted to really scare Fili, he would have been like this, clinically cold and heartless, the way he got when he was ready to kill. “You were missing for nearly six years, Fili.” Thorin’s knuckles were white as he shifted gear.

“What do you expect, an apology?” Fili would come with Thorin, but he sure as shit wouldn’t come quietly. “Go fuck yourself, Thorin."

"Found your tongue then, I see." Thorin sneered at the road. "I knew that snivelling child in my office wasn't you."

"Thrain’s office." Fili reminded him, his voice hard. Thorin made a little snorting sound in his throat and looked over at Fili for half a beat.

"Not for long." Thorin muttered. “Things have changed since you left, Fili. It isn't Thrain’s world anymore. Friends are enemies, other families have come and gone. We do things differently now."

"Like killing children?" A muscle twitched in Thorin’s jaw. “Nori told me about that.”

“Nori is a vile traitor.” Thorin spat, an edge of anger creeping into his chillingly calm voice. “We haven’t had anything to do with him and his brothers for a long time.”

Thorin didn’t know, then. Fili was tempted to tell him. _Thorin,  Kili and Ori have been fucking for months._ If it wasn’t for the incredible danger that Ori would be in, Fili would have said it. “Doesn’t change what you did.” Fili tightened his clenched fists, feeling his nails bite into his palms. “What you made Kili do.”

“You don’t know what we’re up against now, Fili.” Thorin turned the corner, calm and measured and back in control. “Or who.” His eyes flicked to Fili for a moment, then back at the road. “Do you know who the Wargs are?”

“Yeah, some gang that’s scared the Crows out, trying to get you running.” Thorin’s lip curled at that. “You get upstarts every few years. So what?”

“Most upstarts aren’t headed by Azog’s son.” Fili jerked a little in his shock, all pretence at bored hostility dropped. “Didn’t think you knew that.”

“So he’s come to finish you off.” Fili realised slowly. “He wants to finish the war his father started.”

Thorin pulled up outside a familiar old dive bar, Gargza, and switched off the engine. “Let’s have a drink.” Fili followed his uncle across cracked lot, past a row of bikes, some with their blue raven spraypainted on the fuel canister, and into the dimly-lit bar, hazy with cigarette smoke, rock music thudding gently behind a dull murmur of chatter. It was mainly dwarves in here, a couple of men, and certainly no elves or orcs. Fili recognised a few of them — old Gloin up at the bar scowling into a stiff drink, Oddkell and his brother Arnkell in a dim corner, crazy old Bifur playing pool by himself. Some looked up as Thorin entered, half-interested, and froze when they saw Fili beside him, muttering behind their drinks. A hush fell. Fili knew what Thorin was doing him, bringing him back here. He was parading him about, showing his crew and affiliates that Fili was back — back in the town, back in Thorin’s fold, back on their side.

And if Fili tried to run, there really would be no escape.

Fear knotted in his gut. Fili didn’t look or act the part, and he knew it. Thorin sat down at a free table and Fili followed him, looking around at the faces both foreign and familiar, sitting with his knees pressed together and eyes on the table. “Stop looking like a punished child.” Thorin muttered, signalling the barkeep for a couple of drinks.

Fili lifted his head. “But isn’t that what I am?” He wanted to shake Thorin, to get those secrets out. The more Thorin talked, the less he seemed to say and the greater Fili’s apprehension grew. Distrust was growing, and he was starting to suspect that Kili’s disappearance wasn’t quite for the reasons he’d first thought.

Two glasses of whisky were set down before them. Fili, gripped his, lifting it to his mouth and giving it an experimental sniff. He didn’t trust Thorin, didn’t trust this place. But poison was never Thorin’s style, and he took a sip, savouring the familiar burn on his tongue.

“The Wargs have sworn blood.” Thorin spoke as though they had never stopped, fixing a hard stare on his nephew. “They won’t stop until every single one of us is dead. This isn’t about product or territory. Bolg only wants one thing, and that’s to see our family gone.” The seriousness of what was happening slowly sank in for Fili as he took another sip of his drink. This wasn’t your typical bad blood between rival gangs. This was a hatred that ran to the bone, an insatiable thirst for revenge that Bolg would die for. “Thrain’s attempted to make peace. He says too much blood has already been spilt on both sides, and he think that the Wargs will beat us in the end.” Fili watched carefully, running his thumb over the rim of the glass. “He’s a fool.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Fili whispered, trying to piece it all together. Thrain wanted peace and Thorin war. Thrain’s word was iron-clad, and not even Thorin had the gall to disobey him. But what if he didn’t want to? What if Thorin had realised that the only way was to change Thrain’s mind? And what if…

Fili swallowed the rest of his whisky as the horror spread through him, making his stomach burn and his hands shake. _What if Thorin set Kili up?_

“You know where he is, don’t you?” It was getting hard to breathe. Fili blinked and found his head was whirling, although it had nothing to do with the alcohol. Thorin had set up the whole thing. Thrain didn’t love Kili, but traitor or not, he could never let his murder go unpunished. And if the Wargs dealt the first blow, killing his grandson, Thrain would have no choice but to strike back.

“The stupidity of Kili’s actions lay not in what he did, but in the assumption that I wouldn’t know about it.” Thorin didn’t shift his stare from Fili’s face. He didn’t even blink. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice a pound a week going missing? Do you think Balin would be so senseless as to let Kili take it without any approval? I knew for months what he was doing.”

“You set him up.” Fili whispered. “You sack of shit. All Kili ever did was follow you.”

“Kili is an idiot.” Thorin said flatly. “He was never fit to take over the family when I’m gone. He’s been nothing but a liability ever since he was a dwarrow.” Fili shook his head slowly as the horror rose from his gut to his chest, heart pounding in his throat.

“Why are you telling me this now?” His voice cracked as he spoke. It took everything Fili had not to jump over the table and throttle Thorin, to scream and cry, to attack him like an animal and claw his eyes out. Fear kept him anchored to the chair, along with a sick apprehension of what was to come next.

Thorin drained his drink, and finally looked away from Fili to shake his empty glass in the direction of the barkeep. He set down the empty glass and sat with his elbows on the table, shoulders hunched. “What would you do to see your brother again?”

Fili’s mouth was dry. He understood in an instant what Thorin was going to ask of him. He should have known from the moment he first walked out the compound again that this would happen. There was no escaping his past, his blood, his duty. He was a Durin, grandson of Thrain, through and through. The last six years weren’t a rebirth. They were just an interlude. “Anything.” He croaked, tightening the noose around his own neck. Thorin smiled in triumph, and when the barkeep set two fresh glasses down on the table, he lifted his own in a toast.

“Welcome back to the family, Fili.” The smile remained on his face, but his eyes were cold, cruel as ever. Thorin searched every inch of him, ransacked his soul, and turned it inside out. He wasn’t arrogant enough to claim Fili absolutely, but he didn’t need to. He didn’t loyalty from Fili. As long as he dangled the promise of Kili’s safety before him, Fili would do anything Thorin ever asked. “We’ve missed you.”

Fili downed half his drink in one go, pulling a face as it hit the back of his throat. “I need to take a leak.” He still remembered where the bathroom was. Ignoring the eyes that followed him, the whispers (even Bifur was staring, leaning on his pool cue so hard it was bending dangerously), Fili made his way to the bathroom at the back — just a single room for all genders and races, a toilet with a tiny handbasin beneath a cracked mirror and an electric hand-dryer that was always broken. Fili locked the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

Nori. His eyes flew open. He pulled out his phone and dialled his number, pacing three steps up and down the tiny room. Nori picked up on the second ring. “Fili, what the fuck?!” He shouted before Fili could get a word in. “Ori told me what you did, you _ass!_ Who do you think you are? You can’t just—”

“Nori!” Fili hissed, hands shaking madly as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Stop! Stop, stop— just stop and _listen_ to me, please?” His voice broke again, and his eyes were stinging from the sheer panic. “I’m at Gargza— w-with Thorin.”

“The hell?”

“He picked me up at Temple. One of the priests must have tipped him off— Look, I don’t know what to do. All this stuff with Kili, it’s a scam. The Wargs are headed by Azog’s son.  Thrain’s angling to make peace with them after the bad blood between us, but Thorin wants an all-out war. He set Kili up to get him killed so Thrain would _have_ to swear revenge. Thorin was just using him, and this was all part of his plan. A-And he says he’ll save Kili if I stay.”

“What?! He’s all shit. He’s just trying to pull one over.”

“I don’t think he is.” Fili spoke as quickly as he could, eyeing the door, as though Thorin would come bursting through at any moment. “The more I think about it, the more likely it seems. This is just like him, Nori. He’s sick and twisted enough to do it.”

Nori groaned. “Mahal, he's a piece of work. OK. OK. Let me think."

"Once I walk out that door with him, I'm never getting out." Fili looked over at the window. Barred, of course, and there was no way he'd fit through all the same. “Help me."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm thinking. Gargza? Shit, I don't know any safe houses near there. They're all Durin-affiliated. OK, you just need to focus on getting out without a hole in your head. I'll take care of everything else. I think I've got a plan."

"And Kili." Fili raked a hand through his hair. “I'm going after him. Tonight."

"Sure. Just get out of there. Hurry." Fili hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket. He splashed water over his face and stared at his ragged, red-eyed reflection.

“I can do this." Fili's hands gripped the chipped enamel basin. He nodded, damp curls plastered against his left cheek. He swept it away, and with a deep breath that made his ribs hurt, unlocked the bathroom door.

He had the better part of ten seconds. Fili eyed the fire exit behind the bar and the front door, weighing up both options. Thorin was staring at him through the haze of smoke, wearing that same cruel, triumphant smile. His eyes looked colder than Fili had ever seen. He walked slowly, looking hunched and broken, intentionally faced away from the door. It was twenty feet to his right, a rim of white through the dull red gloom. Fifteen. Ten.

Fili bolted. He crashed through the doors, hearing Thorin’s bellow of rage behind him, and sprinted across the parking lot as fast as his short legs could carry him. His feet thudded on the pavement and his breath heaved in his lungs, hair flying back from his face. Fili chanced a look over his shoulder and saw Thorin yanking open the car door and jumping in. Gloin was standing on the pavement too, and as the engine rumbled, the piercing crack of a gunshot filled the air. Fili gasped and looked forward to the road, swearing he could hear the whistle of the bullet as it sailed past. Lungs burning, he turned into the left street, narrow and lined with mechanics and storage lockers and the peeling remains of a Burger World. Thorin’s tyres screeched as he lurched around the corner, and Fili headed straight onto a narrow alley littered with boxes of old computer parts and bits of monitors. Fili crouched behind a skip and listened, holding his breath, as Thorin rumbled past. The engine grew fainter as it went on up the road and then slowed. Taking his chance, Fili clambered over the ramshackle gate, the barbed wire sagging and easy enough to avoid, although he ripped his jeans on the way down. The back wall was cinderblocks, six feet high around a scrubby, tiny lot stacked high with broken-down washing machines and fridges and dryers with the doors ripped off. The car engine cut abruptly as Thorin got out several lots down, slamming his door with a jarring thud. Fili didn't wait to be caught; he clambered from an old Dûthurz dryer onto a fridge. He got one leg over the wall and looked down, gulping. This was going to be hell on his ankles. Fili jumped breathlessly onto the pavement, rolling onto his side with a gasp as he endured the agonising groundshock to his feet.

Wincing, Fili got up. He pulled his phone out to make sure it wasn't broken. Still in one piece. He had a message from Nori already — _Get to the Splendour Inn on Duke. Go into the lobby and say you're waiting for your wife. Don't talk to anybody until she gets there._

Fili was in the back lot of some food joint that by the smell of it did Eastern food. He scooted around the side of the building checking the half-empty parking lot, and started running again. The Splendour was way down the other end of town, at least a couple of  hour's walk along the exposed main road, and Fili knew better than to head back into dwarvish territory to try retrieve his car. He ran when the streets were empty and walked briskly when others came past, always looking over his shoulder. Thorin would have out the word out that Fili was on the run, and there's be a lot dwarves on their bikes combing the streets, looking for him. Twice, he heard the familiar, gut-wrenching roar of an approaching chopper and he dove for refuge — into a convenience store, hiding behind a shelf and pretending to look for a particular brand of gum, and into the shadowy mouth of an open garage, pressing himself against the wall and clinging to the darkness.

Finally, he rounded the corner and found safety; an idling bus, number 074. Rose Heath. That, he remembered with a sigh of relief, went all the way down the main drag and stopped within a few blocks of the intersection of Duke and West Broadway. Fili pulled out his last crumpled dollar from his wallet and slipped it to the unsmiling bus driver. There were a token few low seats for dwarves at the back, but Fili sat in one of the talls near the front, facing the front window, the kind usually taken by mothers with prams and the elderly with bulging trundlers of groceries. If he slouched back, drooping his head on one shoulder, Fili sank below the window, hidden from sight, without looking conspicuous.

Fili pulled out his phone and finally messaged Nori back as the old bus shuddered along the road. _Who’s my wife?_ He asked, turning the plastic over and over in one hand as he waited for a reply. For a rapid, sickening moment, Fili thought Nori had been talking about Ella, as though he’d somehow magicked her away from whatever run-down loft or converted factory studio her parents paid for while she snorted off every polished surface in the house. No — she was long gone, Fili reminded himself, staring at the tear in his jeans on the inside of his left thigh. That was something from the past he could never bring back.

But Nori’s phone had gone flat, or he was ignoring Fili. Either way, he never texted back. Fili got off near West Broadway and walked, still looking over his shoulder for Thorin’s car. But it was gone. Fili had escaped. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his worn coat, walking with his eyes on the concrete. Had he? Was there ever any escape?

The Splendour Inn was one of those glass-and-concrete buildings, dated but too modern for the rest of the street. It played at luxury but the rooms were still pretty cheap and only filled with the basics. It was still only Shulkahar. Fili went inside, trying to look and act natural, giving a somewhat shaky smile to the young woman typing behind the desk. Inside the lobby there were a few clusters of black leatherette chairs around glass coffee tables, stacked with old lifestyle magazines. Against one wall was a rubber plant that looked fake.

“Hi,” Fili cleared his throat, hands in his pocket. “I’m, uh, waiting for my wife. Had to sort out the car.”

“Sure.” The woman looked up briefly at Fili, giving him a half-interested once-over before resuming her typing. “Just take a seat.”

Fili sat down facing the doors. They were tinted so he could see out and all passers-by would see was their own slightly dim reflection. He scoped out the fire exit by the elevators, and incessantly tapped his feet, trying to read a magazine but unable to hold any concentration. After twenty anxious minutes, one of the figures turned towards the glass doors - a young woman with long dark hair, wearing large sunglasses and wearing a knee-length plum dress nipped in at the waist and expensive-looking high heels. Fili stood up, frowning, not recognising her until she opened the door.

“Darling!” Sigrid beamed, pushing her sunglasses up on her head. “ _So_ sorry.” She wrapped her arms around Fili’s shoulder and bent down to kiss him. The fabric of her dress was smooth to the touch and looked expensive. “You haven’t checked in yet, have you? I told you to wait.”

“No, not yet.” Fili blinked, staring Sigrid up and down with her made-up face and sleek dress and high heels. She looked a marketing professional or a secretary of some big-time CEO, not the gas-station girl he saw yesterday, or the road-weary hitchhiker with her sister’s uneven pedicure and an armload of hand-woven bracelets. She played a character.

“Can we get a room for two, please?” Sigrid approached the desk. Fili followed her, and she put her arm across his back.

“Cute.” The woman  remarked with a half-smirk, trying to hide it as quickly as it slipped out. “Got a credit card?” Sigrid fished out her wallet and slipped a plastic card across the desk. “All right, just this name?” A nail clicked on the front.

“Please.” Sigrid rubbed a gentle circle in the small of Fili’s back while the woman typed in the information. “Tall, please. And it’s just for one night. Funeral first thing in the morning; old auntie Agatha. We have to get back to work, don’t we, darling?”

“Oh, yeah.” Fili chanced a weak smile. “Gotta get back to the Henderson account, or my boss’ll be riding me for weeks.” That was how those people sounded, right?

“Room 4-12. You two have a nice stay.” The receptionist returned Sigrid’s card along with two keys on flimsy plastic rings. “Lovely to meet you, Tova and…?”

“Finner.” Fili stumbled out the first name that came to mind, staring at a poster behind her of some holiday deal to the Umbad islands, featuring a bikini-clad elf snorkelling through a school of tropical fish.

“Finner, love,” Sigrid pushed one of the keys in his hand. “You look exhausted. How about you go and lie down, and I’ll park the car downstairs and bring our things up.”

“Thank you.” Fili’s head still swam. “I’ll see you soon.” She bent down so he could kiss her on the cheek and then they parted, Sigrid into the outside world. He took the elevator up to the fourth floor, found his room and collapsed on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“What the hell is going on?” Fili groaned, throwing one hand over his eyes. He listened to the ticking of the clock, the hum of outside traffic, the steady rumble of the fridge. In his mind’s eye, he could see Thorin again, his cold eyes and cruel, certain in his victory. Thorin’s deception was typically multi-layered, playing both enemies and allies against one another, and he was never afraid to bring his own family, no matter how close, in on his vile schemes. Fili raked his fingers over his face, hissing. How could he not see it sooner? How could he be so blind, so stupid, as to think that Thorin would be so negligent that he wouldn’t even notice his own nephew flogging off a pound at a time? How could he not realise that Thorin would never allow anything to happen to Kili unless it somehow played into his own hands?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Fili sat on the edge of the bed, feet hovering six inches from the floor. He stared down at his knees, running over the entire exchange in his mind for what had to be the fourth time already, picking apart every glance, every exhale of air, every single syllable that came out of Thorin’s mouth. Fili had to read between the lines, throw wild guesses and suspect the very worst when it came to understanding his uncle’s intentions. His head hurt. Fili raided the minibar and fixed himself a stiff drink, sitting on the only chair in the room with his knees drawn up. The furniture was all flat-packed MDF, slightly scuffed and chipped around the edges. There was a small burn on the carpet next to the bedside table. This part, at least, made some sense. Sigrid was perhaps the only person in town Fili knew that had no connection to his family. If someone was indeed following him, had tracked him down to this hotel and was waiting outside for him to emerge, who would have expected the good-looking young woman in the silk dress to be his ally? Fili found himself staring the burn in as he drank slowly, waiting for Sigrid to return, hoping she had at least had some answers.

Finally, the lock clicked. He set down his half-finished drink and stood up. Sigrid entered, dragging a carry-on luggage bag behind her on tiny wheels. “Oh, give me that.” She snatched up the drink, downed it in one, and slammed the empty glass on the table, ice clinking. She kicked off her high heels and flopped down on the bed, hands over her face.

“Sigrid, what’s going on?” He demanded, sitting down beside her. Sigrid sighed and sat up, leaning on her hands. “Did Nori send you?”

“If Nori’s that redhead bikie dwarf with dragonskin boots from yesterday, then yeah, he sent me all right.” She crossed one brown leg over the other. “Said if I ever cared for you, I’d listen to him. He sounded desperate. Pulled me out of work, gave me a credit card and that,” she gestured with her foot at the case, “and told me to buy a pretty dress and rent a decent car and a room at the Splendour Inn as soon as possible. I have to look after you until midnight and then I’m dropping you off. He says you know where to go, and you’re on your own.” Her hazel eyes wrought with her own concern, Sigrid chewed on her lower lip. “Fili, a-are you in danger?”

Fili let out a wry laugh. “Oh, yeah.” His hands were clasped in his lap. “I got _everything_ wrong, Sigrid. Kili’s kidnapping was a setup this whole time.” Sigrid reached out and gripped his wrist. “I feel like such a fool.”

“A setup?” She asked. Fili nodded. “Who set him up? The gang of orcs?”

“No. It was Thorin.” Fili’s mouth was dry; he needed another drink. “He set Kili up to die.”

“What?” The cheap bedsprings creaked as she shifted, sitting up properly with one leg tucked beneath her. “No _way._ He’s your uncle!”

“He’s a twisted bastard.” His voice rose half a note. “He practically admitted it. He wants the Wargs to kill my brother to push them into open gang warfare.” Sigrid’s grip tightened on his wrist. “And he said— He said I could save him.” She listened intently, striking brows creased in a thoughtful frown. “If I come back to the family, if I’m Thorin’s nephew and go-to guy and re-learn the ropes, then I get Kili back.”

“Oh,” She shuffled in closer, gently winding an arm across her back and resting her chin on his shoulder, “Fili, I’m so sorry. So you ran away?” Fili nodded.

“Again. It’s what I seem to be good at.” He hunched in on himself, Sigrid’s body feeling like an iron weight across his shoulders. “All I do is run.”

“You’re not leaving your brother, are you?” Sigrid asked after a tense moment of silence. Fili lifted his head from the sanctuary of his crooked elbow and looked at her. She still had that thoughtful, slightly confused expression as she studied his face in kind, teeth pulling at her lower lip.

“Do you know what’s in that case?” Sigrid shook her head. With a sigh, Fili stood up and found solid ground. “I think I do.” He heaved it on the bed, arms staining under the weight, undid the zip and lifted the soft-top lid open, where it fell back on the mattress.

“ _Shit!_ ” Sigrid jumped off the bed, eyes wide. “What— _Fili_ , what the hell is that?” Fili lifted out the Staukug-15, an orcish-made micro-submachine gun with a modified clip, testing the weight in his hands.

“Firepower.” He said shortly. He laid out a bulletproof vest on the bed, along with new dark trousers and heavy boots, a long-sleeved black shirt, gloves, a ski mask, wire-cutters, a butterfly knife, a torch, extra ammo, two silenced semi-automatic pistols, a tiny canister of thermite with a long fuse. Tactical stuff. Fili knew he needed all of this and more.

“Are you going to raid their hideout?” Fili looked across the bed. Sigrid stood on the other side of the tall bed now, staring in shock at the layout of weapons and gear.

He didn’t answer at first. “I’m not leaving Kili to die.” Fili repacked everything, eyes firmly on his hands. “I’m not dragging anyone else down with me, and I’m sure as shit not going let Thorin turn me into his prisoner. What other choice do I have?” When he was done, he put the case back on the ground and looked up at her. “I’m sorry you got involved in this. I didn’t want it to happen.”

“Forget about me, what about you? They’ll kill you.” Sigrid breathed. “You can’t do this.”

“Hey,” Fili got on the bed and crawled across. On his knees like this, he came up to Sigrid’s shoulder, seizing her elbows and looking her in the eye. “You’d do anything for Bain and Tilda, wouldn’t you?” She nodded, breathing heavily.

“Without a second thought.” He forced a smile in response, one hand on the back of her neck. Sigrid reached down and touched his face, her fingertips soft against the bristly curls of his growing beard. She tried to smile back but could only manage a brief twitch in the corner of her lips, blinking rapidly as her chin quivered.

“This is my mistake. When I left him here, defenceless, I asked for this to happen. I put myself first. Well, I’m not doing that again, Sigrid. I am going to get him out, no matter the cost. I would rather _die_ than leave him to suffer.” He paused to swallow hard, feeling his voice crack. “I just wish it didn’t take all of this to happen for me to realise that.”

“Where will you go after, i-if the both of you make it?” She had to ask, misery darkening her eyes.

“Home. Edoras. I’ll drive and I won’t stop, ever.” Her hair shifted over the back of his hand, sending a shiver like an electric shock over his skin. Fili missed her already.

“Well,” She looked over his shoulder, across the bed, trying to find a single positive. “We have until midnight. Nori was insistent on that.”

“Still seven hours.” Fili tried to be optimistic. He tried to smile, to throw himself in the moment and focus only on this, on the way her hip pressed into his navel, the warmth of her skin beneath his hand. _Come with me,_ he whispered in his mind. _Take your siblings. I’ll take you away. I’ll look after you_. It sounded so patronising and pathetic in his head, and Fili knew he could never say it aloud. He could barely take care of himself; what could he and Sigrid do together, play house? With her surly teenage brother and sugar-sweet sister and own his fucked-up junkie sibling? Even though she lived in this town, she wasn’t quite part of this world. She was one of the lucky ones, standing on the edges and looking in.

Still, they had seven hours. Sigrid leaned in and their mouths met and his hand on the back of her neck balled into a fist, seizing lock of her soft, loose hair. Seven precious hours before he lost her forever, and Fili wasn’t ready to let her go.


	8. Chapter 8

Afterwards, they lay back-to-chest, the sky darkening through the blinds and flashing orange under the streetlights. Soft rain fell, making the tyres rasp on the pavement outside, pattering against the window. It was what he had wanted from the beginning – just _time._ Time to enjoy her slowly, inch by inch, to lay down with her, naked and open, to feel that sweetest of ecstasies, sweeter than any pill or rock or powder, of claiming someone, absolutely. Fili dozed for an hour or so, Sigrid’s arm around his waist, her chin on the top of his head as she curled around him, a shield-body, as if she could protect him from what was coming next.

When he woke up, Sigrid was pattering around the room in her underwear and his tee-shirt, leafing through the information brochure, picking things up and putting them down. It was too short for her, stopping just short of her hip bones, and too wide, the neck slipping down over her collarbone. He could see her tattoo – a thrush on her left hip, a present from friends for her eighteenth birthday. They had compared them in bed, her tiny little bird with the raven on his right bicep, a gang insignia with the bird holding a bloodied knife, the words ‘Death Before Dishonour’ in a semi-circle beneath it. He was saving up to get it lasered off, he told Sigrid as she brushed her fingertips over the script. Fili watched her in the light of the bedside lamp now, face pressed against the pillow, keeping breath slow and even. Again, he wanted to call out to her – _come back with me_. His toes curled beneath the sheet and he grabbed a fistful of linen, fighting the urge down.

Sigrid turned and saw he was awake. She broke into a smile, pale and tired, and padded over to the bed. “I wasn’t sure if I should let you sleep or not.” She sat down on the edge of the mattress, gently brushing a blonde curl out of Fili’s face and tucking it behind his ear, as though he was a sleeping infant.

“I won’t be getting much tonight.” Her face tightened at that, and she looked past him at a spot on the wall.

“Do you really think there’s no other way?” Fili sat up and took her hand, squeezing it to try and comfort her. “It’s not some movie, Fili. They’ll kill you before you take two steps inside the place.”

Fili shrugged. Sleeping had given him a sort of clarity, and now he faced the night with a resolved emptiness. Whatever happened, happened. He deserved it now. “If I die trying to rescue Kili then… it’s worth it, you know?” His grip tightened on her hands. “You get that, don’t you? You said yourself, you’d do anything for your brother and sister.”

Sigrid tensed and pulled her hand away. “It’s not the same.” She said shortly. “Stop comparing them.” She drew up one knee and rested her chin on it. “I– No. It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.” He begged. “Whatever’s on your mind, tell me. I can take it.”

She bit on the inside of her cheek and rolled it around in her mouth. “You shouldn’t have left.” Her shoulders sagged in a sigh. “When you talk about how being the eldest brings this responsibility, it makes me think about Bain and Tilda and… I’m sorry– I keep going over it in my head and wondering what I would have done. I can’t help that. But– you left him, Fili. You must have known in your heart that this was going to happen.” Sigrid didn’t look at him, and she hunched over, as though she was steeling herself for a blow. “No matter what Bain did, I could never, _ever_ leave him. You knew your uncle and grandfather were awful people, you knew Kili was naive and impressionable… What did you think was going to happen to him?”

The betrayal stung, and for a moment, Fili was lost for words. He stared open-mouthed at his knees, trying to say something. Sigrid seized the moment of silence and continued. “I mean – you’re talking about taking a bullet for your brother. If you felt that strongly for him, then why did you leave? Why didn’t you try and protect him?”

After a painful, drawn-out silence, Fili cleared his throat. He laced his fingers together and wrung his hands, biting his lip. “I– I wasn’t this person, Sigrid.” He whispered. “I was– I was a junkie.” Sigrid listened, a frown creasing her forehead. “I was stupid and self-absorbed and thoughtless. All I cared about was getting my next fix. A-And, you know, I wasn’t the one that started it. Kili was the one who got me hooked. Kili was the one who always went out and did stupid shit. It was always Kili. He was toxic. He’s the reason I got arrested – twice. I did my time and kept my head down. I went to the rehab meetings. And Kili? He just fought. He’d get sprung with drugs or a shiv in his cell. He had no interest in cleaning up his act or his life. I was out in eighteen months, but Kili wound up being inside for four years. Four fucking years, and we had the same damn sentence.” Fili balled his hands in the sheets. “When he got out, I’d been clean for two years, and you know what he did? The first thing? He got high. He got high and he picked a fight and I had to save him.”

He leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes, heaving a long sigh. Sigrid still listened. “He got arrested the same damn day they let him out. Thank fuck it was a dirty cop that got him, Sigrid. We paid him off, Dwalin and I, and got the rap sheet shredded. Otherwise he’d be straight back in for assault. Third offense – he’d get ten years, easy. I tried to tell him this the next day when he’d sobered up, and he just didn’t want to know. He told me to fuck off.” Fili drew in a short, shuddering breath. “A-And it just got to me. So I did.” He sniffed. “I did what Kili told me to do, and I fucked off.” His voice broke. “I know it was wrong. I _know_ , Sigrid. But I was just so damn tired of looking after him. I tried everything – I was gentle, I was firm, I was angry, I was understanding – no matter what I did, Kili would just go right back into his old habits. A-And I just broke. I loved him, Sigrid, I wanted to take care of him, b-but I wasn’t going to wreck my life for him. I-I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Fili screwed his eyes up, feeling them sting. He was exhausted already. “I know it’s not good enough. I know I’m a useless brother. I was supposed to look after him, no matter what. It’s what our parents would have wanted, but…” He finally looked up at her. “I couldn’t.”

“Oh.” It was all she could say. Sigrid swallowed hard, blinked rapidly as though Fili’s speech had moved her to tears too, and without another word, opened her arms. Fili buried his face in her neck, feeling the warm, soothing press of her lean body against him. With a sigh, Sigrid slowly laid down so they could lie together properly, legs curled around each other, his head on her shoulder, listening to the rise and fall of her lungs.

“It doesn’t excuse what I did.” Fili croaked when the sting finally faded. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I-I wouldn’t. Truth is, I’ll never forgive myself. But – you understand a bit better now, don’t you? You understand why I did this?” He got up on one elbow to look at her properly. “It’s not because I didn’t love him, Sigrid. It was never that.”

She smiled, soft and sad and troubled. Her hand trembled as she gently touched his face. “I know.”

* * *

Fili got dressed at about eleven-thirty. They had ordered food – gourmet burgers and salad – and ate in bed, half-watching a rom-com they'd both seen before. Despite the nerves that left his stomach in knots and made it hard to eat, it was somehow one of the nicest evenings Fili had had in ages. He thought idly that he would do it again and again, take a thousand of these lazy nights over the house parties and nights at bars and furtive bottles of wine in the central square at night. Maybe he was getting old.

“Do you want this?" Sigrid started lifting Fili's shirt over her head.

"Keep it." Fili was crouching before the open case. “I got a change here."

"I'll treasure it always." She was being sarcastic but a smile broke out on her face. "Hey, it's like the old days but reversed. Did you ever read any of those fairy tales about knights and maidens and stuff as a kid? You know, she'd always give her lover-boy warrior a piece of clothing as a token. Like it would protect him."

Fili laughed, strapping the bulletproof vest on his bare chest. "I think this'll protect me just fine." Across the room, Sigrid’s eyes darkened, and she stared down at her hands, still grasping the hem of Fili's shirt.

“I better get dressed, too." She murmured, swinging her long legs over the side of the bed.

The rental car, an unassuming sedan, was parked in the underground park. His pack bulging with firepower, Fili crawled into the back seat and curled up as small as he could on the floor of the car.

"Which way am I going?" Sigrid asked as she pulled out into the street.

“Down the old railway station." Fili didn't dare to look. "You see anyone hanging around acting funny? Any bikies?"

"No." Sigrid looked over her shoulder at him as she pulled up at a red light. “You can probably come out. I'm sure you're safe."

"I'm not risking it. I don't want you associated with these people, Sigrid. They'll tear you apart."

Sigrid chuckled darkly, accelerating. “Oh, don't worry about me, Fili. I can take care of myself. I used to bartend at a pretty rough joint down the east side before I got the gas gig. Good tips, baaad clientele."

"How old are you?" Fili asked suddenly. “Shouldn't you be just out of high school?"

"Ha!" The car turned a corner. "I wondered if you'd ever ask. Nineteen. I quit school at fifteen. Wasn't learning much. I got suspended a couple of times, and it became pretty clear I was just wasting everyone's time."

" _Really_?"

Sigrid snickered. "I was a bad girl. Used to stay out all night going around on the back of motorbikes and smoking weed. Then I got tangled up in a robbery. First offense, and my boyfriend took the heat; they didn't press charges. But it sure scared me straight. Never broke the law again – well, not any real ones, anyway." She sighed. “I'm going back next year, when Tilda turns ten and I can leave her at home. I'm going to do an information systems certificate. Just computer skills and that. I wanna be an office assistant in one of those offices downtown. Overtime, paid leave, retirement – bliss."

Conversation grew tense and stilted as they drew closer to the strip of old warehouses by the tracks. Time was precious and they knew it was ticking away, but nothing seemed adequate, so they eventually fell silent except for Fili’s tentative directions. Finally, Sigrid pulled over and shut off the engine, leaning against the steering wheel and heaving a long, long sigh.

Fili’s joints hurt, and there was a tightness in his chest, as though he’d been running for miles and miles. He crawled out of the car, checking to make sure the road was clear, and pulled open the driver’s door, leaning in. He kissed her fiercely, taking a fistful of her rumpled waves, holding on. Knowing that this was their last kiss, ever, Fili tried to take a snapshot of it in his memory, sketch a picture of the way her chest heaved and her mouth moved against his, the sensation of her hand on his face, the taste and smell, the sound of the soft groan in the back of her throat. But it was like grasping at a spiderweb, and it crumbled and broke away and disappeared in his desperate fingers.

Their foreheads touched. Sigrid cupped the back of his neck, looking like she was struggling for words. “Just– Call me,” She whispered, afraid to break the quiet. “When you’re safe. When you’ve got him.”

“I’ve got your number.” Fili vowed. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve already done so much. Honestly, I couldn’t have gone this far without you, Sigrid. You saved me.”

“Oh, Nori would have found someone else to pick you up.” She tried to brush away his devotion, giving a self-conscious smile.

“No– Not just picking me up.” Fili’s thighs were starting to hurt in this leaning crouch, but he didn’t want to move. “Sigrid, you… You listened to me. You _get_ it, better than anyone has before.” He touched the side of her face, and Sigrid grabbed his wrist. “You made me realise things that– that I don’t think I could have on my own.”

“You want one more piece of advice?” Her voice hardened, and it made Fili go cold. “Stop blaming Thorin. Stop blaming Kili. They’re not the reason you ran away. You wanted to run away from a version of yourself that you didn’t like. The sooner you accept that… The sooner you can let it go and move on with your life, for real.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Fili almost thought about protesting, shouting that she was wrong, she didn’t understand him at _all_ , but down in his gut, he knew she was right. He knew it. Was he really so easy to pick apart and break down? “Just get your brother. Take him away. But he won’t change unless you show him how.”

It wasn’t new – Fili had attended enough group meetings and NA sessions and one-on-ones with his therapist to know the line about accepting responsibility off by heart, but hearing it from Sigrid’s mouth struck a different chord in his heart. He felt small and bruised as he crouched in her arms, and with his mouth dry, he nodded, pressing his thumb against her cheekbone and watching the gleam of her dark eyes in the amber streetlights. “I know.” His voice cracked. “I know– and I’ll fix it. I’ll fix the both of us.”

And then he let her go. Fili stood up, slung the backpack over his shoulders while Sigrid closed the door. Through the glass, she smiled, sadly. Fili pressed his palm against the window and she pressed back. Then, with a little shake of her head, she looked down at the handbrake, started the car and slowly reversed away.

Fili watched the fading trail of headlights, heart hammering in his throated, seized with an overwhelming desire to run after her, to scream for her to come back before she disappeared forever. Sigrid turned a corner, and she was gone, the thin rumble of the engine dispersing in the ambience of the damp night.

A few spots of rain fell on his head. Fili endured it silently, hands balled into loose fists at his side, breath heavy in his lungs. She had disappeared so quickly; she came and went in a flash, a few days, but the imprint that she left on his heart was stark and unique. She had pressed her thumb on it and left an inkstain. The small-town girl with small-town dreams, who did what Fili couldn’t. She stayed for her family. She’d stay if it killed her.

He found his phone. There was one message from Nori – _Call me when you’ve got him. I’ll pick you up and take you to your car. Then get out and don’t ever come back._ It was short and stern, and Fili knew that Nori hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d made Ori do. He probably never would.

Fili swung the pack around and pulled out the mask and gloves. He tucked his hair away and made sure his golden beard was as covered as possible and made his way down the street, sticking to the shadows. He was afraid to come too close with Sigrid and put her in danger, so it was a fifteen-minute walk, keeping his ears pricked for the barest, lightest sounds. Occasionally, he saw lights on in buildings, one or two liquor stores still open, a gas station that was closing up for the night. Cars were infrequent enough for Fili to run and hide whenever they approached, and there was no one else walking along the street.

He heard the hideout before he saw it. Loud thrash metal was playing through bass-heavy speakers. Sloppy, although he should expect this level of brazenness from the gang that cornered and kidnapped Thrain’s remaining grandson. Not that Fili minded – Something loud and bright like this was a much easier break-in.

He jumped the fence of the abandoned office block across the road, climbed the fire escape and got a bird’s-eye from the roof. Circles of orange light half-illuminated the scene, and the garage door leading into the back lot was half-open. Dangerous then, but not impossible to sneak past. The windows were boarded up, but he could still see cracks of light here and there. The parking lot out back was wrapped in a chain-link fence, razor wire coiled around the top. Easy; he had cutters in his pack. Getting inside the building itself would be harder. The fire escape had been taken out, probably to stop something like this from happening. Fili bit the inside of his cheek, scouring the second-floor windows. He couldn’t get in that way. The roof had what looked like several air-conditioning units, which could be promising. It was a broad, squat building of poured concrete slabs, smooth-faced. No handholds. Squinting, Fili caught sight of a drain-pipe snaking up the side of the building, made of iron, it looked like, bolted close. A sigh made his body sag. It was his best shot. His arms already ached at the thought of it.

Fili crept across the road, sticking to the shadows, and crouched in the darkest corner of the fence. He cut just enough of the chain link to peel it back at the corner and creep through, using a plastic bag he found as a makeshift rope to tie it close. Creeping along the fenceline, Fili dodged the spotlight. If there were cameras, he couldn’t see them. There were four cars parked alongside a good half-dozen bikes, a white warg’s head spraypainted on the shiny black.

Halfway along the fenceline, Fili saw it. The white warg. He stopped breathing, and his heart seized in his throat. She (for it had to be a bitch – she was too big a warg to be a male) slept in a kennel across the concrete lot, head and shoulders gleaming in the gloom. Fili stood frozen for several moments, and when he was sure he was asleep, moved on, trying to keep his tread as light as possible.

The pipe was daunting, but Fili didn’t stop to consider it. Looking over his shoulder to check on the sleeping warg, he gripped the rusting metal. From here he could hear, beneath the loud music, throaty, orcish laughter and the occasional clinking of bottles. He was safe, for now. No one had caught wind of him.

Climbing the pipe was even more exhausting than he first thought. Weighed down by the guns in his pack and the bulletproof vest, Fili was panting after just six feet. In places where it hadn’t given way to rust just yet, the iron was slippery and he had to hold on very tight. He didn’t look down or up, just straight at the smooth concrete wall, shimmying as quietly as he could, wincing at the occasional clang and scrape, which to him sounded like a car crash, the ringing of a bomb with its impossible loudness. Breathe, he told himself, groaning with each painful inch. Fear didn’t really have a place in his heart in this moment – Fili had somehow managed to put aside those secondary concerns and focus on the primal; get up the wall. That was all that mattered right now. Just get up the wall. Didn’t matter if he woke up that warg, if someone caught him, as dark and obvious as a cockroach on the kitchen floor. Just climb.

He gripped the edge of the roof. Panting, Fili hauled himself over, resting on his hands and knees. The roof was made with corrugated iron, slanting gently with a peak in the middle. The closest air duct was just ten feet away across the roof. The metal groaned beneath Fili’s weight, but he held his breath and went for it, trying to move as smoothly and quickly as possible. Hopefully they wouldn’t hear anything over the music, or if they did, it would just be the old building settling.

The duct itself was easy. Fili tore off the cover and clambered in; he _just_ fitted, including his backpack, and there was no room to turn around. He went in backwards and lowered himself down by bracing himself against the sides as best he could. Fili crept along on his belly, holding his breath and listening every few moment for any outside sound. He heard the dull throb of music, but nothing else. At the first vent, Fili carefully lifted the grate and pulled it aside. It was the bare, stained floorboards of a hallway floor, lit by a distant light.

Heart thudding, he leaned forward, handing his head out the open vent and taking a look. Nothing. He turned his neck as best he could to check. Just an empty hallway. He jumped down as lightly as he could, but it was still a thud. No cameras, again. They obviously weren’t concerned with that kind of security when there was a pack of orcs on the shop floor. Wincing, Fili crouched, listening for a shout of surprise. He could hear, downstairs, the laughing and shouting of the orcs through the beat of the music. Fili carefully reached in his pack and pulled out both pistols, tucking one in his small of his back and carrying the other. Leaving his pack for now, he crept towards the source of tight, keeping the gun held out in front of him.

It led to a staircase, probably down to the warehouse floor. Fili popped his head around and looked, sheltered in the upstairs shadow. It was a single, long, flight of stairs. He climbed down, pressed against the wall as the voices came into focus.

“... You’re all shit, Gogân. Five my ass. It was three at best.”

“You weren’t even there! Swear on my _Sha._ Five of the bastards. Didn’t even need my gun.”

“Yeah, but all depends what _sort_ of dwarves they were.” A third voice piped up. Fili stilled. “Were they hard bastards, or were they like the runt upstairs?” Fili’s throat closed, grip tightening on the gun. He was at the bottom of the stairs now. He peered around the corner and caught a glimpse – a warehouse floor littered with old crates and pallets and bits of furniture, a couple of cars with the hoods open and engines removed, the lights going, a knot of orcs at the back, sitting or standing on old couches and drinking, a large stereo blaring. Fili ducked back around, breathing heavily and leaning against the wall.

“Course they were hard bastards! A toothless baby has more fight than that snivelling sack of shit. When’s Bolg going to hurry up and get rid of him?”

“Fuck knows.” Relief coursed through Fili’s veins. His brother was still alive. “I’m just waiting for the word and I ain’t got it yet.”

“Did you even get any intel out?”

“Few names, couple of hideouts we didn’t know of. Bolg’s gonna raid ‘em, he reckons. Maybe that’s what he’s waiting for. Shoot up a Durin shithole and leave the brat’s body on the scene. Make it real clear who ratted ‘em out.”

“Aw, I’ll miss him.” The orc’s tone was cruel and mocking, and Fili’s gut twisted in hatred. “I love it when we get junkie hostages. They hate your guts but tangle a teenth in front of ‘em and they get _real_ friendly, if you catch me…”

Fili had heard enough. He crept back up the stairs and tried to block the voices out. pressing his wrist hard against his forehead until it throbbed. Kili was live – he was upstairs, in this building, this hallway. He was just through one of these doors. Fili gripped the wall and tried to breathe, feeling sick with a burning, rush of rage that rocked his stomach and lapped at his chest. He wanted to march down there, pull out the Staukug and riddle them all with holes. He wanted to beat them, break them, burn this place to ashes.

But it wasn’t the time for revenge. Fili opened his eyes. He had to rescue his brother. He found the pack and fished out the torch, checking the doors in the bad downstairs light. These were small rooms – supply closets, offices, along one side of the hall, their windows boarded up. There was no getting in or out. Fili froze at the third door, which was fastened with a heavy iron padlock threaded through a bolt on the door. Combination lock. Nearly impossible for anyone but a skilled thief to get into, but Fili didn’t need skill. He had fire. Teeth gritted, he wedged the cannister of thermite into the bolt, lit the fuse, and stood back, shielding it with his body.

Thermite was almost silent, but it ran very, very hot. Fili watched, heart thudding, as sparks burst forth and littered the ground. The fizzing continued for thirty heart-wrenching seconds. When it stilled, Fili checked with his torch. The door was scorched and parts of the bolt closest to the padlock were red-hot. With a grunt, Fili drove his shoulder against the door, torch in one hand, gun in the other, feeling the overheated, fragile metal give way as he stumbled into the room.

It was a tiny room, obviously some sort of old supply closet. It was littered with rubbish, empty packets of fast food and old newspapers, and a bucket in the corner with an awful smell. A very dirty single mattress took up most of the room, and on that mattress was _Kili._ He was a paper doll with an inkstain for hair, small, frail, wafer-thin. He lay curled up on one side in boxer shorts and a tee-shirt, barefoot, his hands and feet bound with duct tape.

Kili started at the noise, his face a pale, dirty smudge in the torchlight. There was a nasty bruise on his jaw and several cuts on one cheek and his eye was black. Kili groaned in fogged confusion and then whimpered. His mouth had been taped shut too and the muffled sounds that came behind it made Fili’s stomach turn. Shaking violently, Kili tried to scoot away from him, twisting and turning, hands fixed behind his back.

“Kili– Kili–” Fili gasped and threw himself on his knees. Crying, Kili turned away from him, clearly expecting the worst, drained and utterly broken. What did they do to him, those bastards, when they came up here? “Kili.” Fili put down the gun and ripped off the ski mask, shining the light in his own face. It was dazzling. “Kili, it’s me.”

The muffled sobbing stopped, punctuated with a strangled gasp. Kili stared, still quivering, unable at first to believe it. “It’s me.” Fili breathed, dizzy with relief as he stared at the impossible. Kili’s body sagged and he tried to shuffle towards his brother, garbled words blocked by the tape over his mouth.

“It's all right," Fili croaked, eyes stinging as he gathered the bony body in his arms. "I've got you." He vowed, Kili choking on his smothered tears. His own body was shaking now, catching up with his frantic mind as he put everything together and dared to believe that he had done it. "I've got you, Kili."


	9. Chapter 9

Kili shuddered and Fili realised that his nose was blocked from crying and he couldn't breathe. "I'll take it off," he promised, "but you can't make a sound." Kili nodded desperately, lifting his head, and Fili peeled away the silvered tape. Kili gasped for air, shoulders heaving, and continued to shake as Fili grabbed his face and studied it in the sliver of torchlight. He'd been beaten up more than once, older bruises beneath the fresh, new purple ones, one cut half-healed and the others recently bleeding. 

"Fili—" Kili croaked, too loud, and Fili crushed him against his chest, shushing him as he reached for the butterfly knife in his pocket. Carefully, he sliced through the tape on Kili's wrists. Kili wound his arms around Fili's neck and clung to him, trying to regain control of himself.

His arms were so thin. Junkie arms, the knots of wrists and elbows jutting up through his too-pale skin, covered with prison tattoos – snakes, skulls, flames – in fading tones of blue and black. Fili felt the braids of bone and tendon and muscle tighten around his neck and latch on. Part of him wanted to stay like that for ever; holding Kili, momentarily oblivious to the rest of the world. But it wasn't safe yet. Not by a long short. 

Fili pulled away and carefully unfolded Kili's bound legs from under his body. He hissed in pain at the movement, and as Fili shone the light on him, he could see why. The big toes were blackened and peeling with burns – jumper cables, Fili recognised instantly, with the voltage turned up far too high. His left ankle was swollen to three times it size, purple and black. It looked like it had been smashed intentionally. "Oh—" Fili nearly choked, bile rising in his chest. A thought left him ice-cold. Forget running – Kili would struggle to walk out of here on that injured ankle. 

Those fucking bastards. He'd kill them all. Fili steadied his hands and sliced through the tape, pulling it carefully from Kili's ankles. He winced at the hairs ripped out, but Kili didn't even seem to feel it. Fili shone the torch over Kili's legs, checking for more damage. Cigarette burns littered his thighs, grimy and purple-black with bruises. Mahal. Fili gritted his teeth as the horror sickened into a burning guilt and the urge to throw up increased.

“I-I tried to run away." Kili whispered. “So they..." Fili's head whipped up in dismay. Kili wiped at his bloodied face and drew in a shuddering gasp. "Please, get me out of here."

"Can you walk?" Kili shook his head. “How about if you lean on me?"

"I-I c-can’t—"

"Kili, you have to  _ try _ ." He hissed. “I can't carry you." Kili blinked and tried to stem the flow. “Use your good foot and lean on me. We'll take it slow. Nice and quiet. If that doesn’t work, I’ll carry you." Climbing back through the vent was completely out of the question. There was only one way out; straight through the front door. It was ridiculously dangerous, but Fili could see plainly that there was no other option, with Kili's broken ankle, his body beaten and broken and robbed of his strength. 

“I’m sorry.” Kili whispered plaintively, still clinging to his neck. “I-I’m so sorry—”

“Not now.” Fili lifted his brother’s arms away and checked them, forearms, wrists and hands. More burns and bruises. There were specks on his palms, brown and black, and for a moment he couldn’t place them. With a shudder he recalled a bitter, cold night with Thorin fifteen years ago when they had bagged and nabbed a runner for the Grishnaak and brought him back to their hideout. It was the first time he’d seen hot wire through the palms – simple but painfully effective. It was one of Thorin’s favourites. “I’ll get you out of here.” Fili promised. “Even if it kills me.” 

Somehow, they managed a stumble down the hallway. Fili half-carried his brother, who dragged the broken ankle behind him. He his lip so hard the blood dripped down his chin, arm slung around FIli’s neck. “Good," Fili whispered. “You're doing real good."

"Fuck." Kili whimpered. He clung to one of Fili's pistols, holding it loose at his side. Fili touched his temple against Kili's head, trying to be comforting.

“Just take it slow. We have time" He breathed in Kili's ear. "Be quiet as you can. What do you know about the layout downstairs?"

"Nothing." Kili's breath was soft and stilted. "They blindfolded me until I got into the closet. Never left it." 

"Shit. OK." Fili swallowed. “Just, uh, follow my lead. I'll get us out."

At the bottom of the stairs, they waited and listened. Fili poked his head around and took a glimpse. Eyes shut, he mapped it out in his head as he leaned against – the stacks of crates, the shadowed corners, the possible line of sight of the orcs, still drinking and bantering on the couch. 

Fili tucked the pistol in his belt and carefully unzipped the backpack. He pulled out the Staukug and left the rest on the stairs – he didn’t need break-in tools now. Now they needed to get out. The weight of the gun in his hand, the press of Kili against his shoulder, it was sweetly comforting. It kept him grounded as he edged as quietly as he could against the wall. It reminded him of why he was doing this, and he needed that a hell of a lot. “We crawl,” he whispered. “Keep low and out of sight. Any sudden sound or movement, just freeze. If we don’t draw attention to ourselves, we should be able to slip out.” 

Halfway across the warehouse, they stopped, crouching behind a lopsided stack of pallets. “How’s your foot?” Fili breathed. His brother just shook his head and said nothing, wiping at his bloodied chin. “Do you need me to carry you?” He would, even if it meant they were both caught. Leaving Kili behind was unconscionable. 

“No.” Kili trembled with the effort to keep quiet. “I-I—” He hissed. “Let’s just go.” 

It was increasingly dangerous, the further they crept along the wall. They crawled on hands and knees through the dust and oil on the concrete floor, doing their best to keep quiet and heart freezing at every shuffle and scrape. Every muscle was screaming in Fili’s body and he knew Kili would be feeling much, much worse. He had to stop again behind a large shipping crate – import-quality, pine-wood and sturdy. They must have nicked it and its contents. The open roller door was only twenty-five, perhaps thirty feet away, and there was no hidden path for them to take anymore. Either they could make a break for it, hope that the element of surprise would be enough for them to get out and that massive warg would somehow sleep through the commotion, they could try and be impossibly quiet and hope that nobody looked in their direction as they crept outside, or they could wait here – minutes, hours – until enough of the orcs had left that he and Kili could take them on together. 

Fili decided on the last option. “We’ll wait.” he breathed into his brother’s ear. “Do you know how late this shit goes for?” Kili shook his head, eyes dark in his filthy, pale face. 

“You could be waiting all night. They’ll be jacked out of their minds. Meth, coke – whatever they can get their hands on. They don’t sleep. They don’t let me sleep.” Kili screwed up his eyes and gritted his bloody teeth. “I don’t even know what day it is.” 

“Wednesday.” Fili gripped his shoulder. “The seventeenth.” Kili leaned his cheek against his hand and let out a long, slow sigh. 

“Feels longer.” He murmured, voice cracking. Fili squeezed his shoulder in a silent comment to hush, leaning against the wood and bringing his legs up. 

“Don’t talk.” Fili whispered, staring at the wall opposite. The naked concrete was splashed and criss-crossed with graffiti, some faded, some so new he could smell it. Until recently, this place had been abandoned for a long time. 

But Kili had one more thing to say. “I knew you’d come.” He breathed, clinging to the gun like it was some childhood treasure. 

It hit Fili harder than he thought it ever could. The air was strangled in his lungs, and he felt the burn of guilt fill him, viciously and quickly as the pain of a gunshot. Shivering in his scant clothes, Kili pressed in closer, and Fili clung to his bony shoulder, feeling the stilted rise and fall beneath his hand. 

“‘Course. I’ll never leave you again.” He vowed, as though it could somehow undo all previous neglect.

Fili checked his watch regularly. They waited an hour and then two, listening to the orcs talk shit and smoke, the boom of their voices filling the chilly warehouse. Kili’s eyelids drooped, and Fili had to keep jabbing him in the side to keep him awake. They couldn’t lower their guard. It was a blessing that they couldn’t talk; Fili went over speech after speech in his head, apologies, explanations, but it all seemed false and pathetic. Kili, too, seemed happier to sit in silence. He leaned against Fili’s shoulder, clinging to his shirt, hair falling over his grimy face. His skin was like a tarpaulin stretched over a trailer, all sharp angles and corners jutting out, but still somehow loose and sagging. Fili didn’t like to look at it or touch it and so he kept staring at the wall, picking through the tags in the layered graffiti, listening to the music, to the swagger of the orcs behind them. 

Around three, half of them left. There was only four now, Fili stealing heart-pounding glances around the edge of the crate. He held his breath and listened to the outside world, but there was nothing, just the thud of the bass through the speakers and the hoarse, hacking laugh of lungs filled with chemical smoke. 

“Whoo!” Kili’s eyes snapped open at the crow from the couch, grip tightening on the gun. “ _ Man,  _ I am pumped. Give me some more of that.” The sound of drinking. “I feel like a party. Can’t we get some girls in here?”

“We’re supposed to be watching the place.” Another voice snarled. “You know how Bolg feels about bringing others over.”

“Fuck it! We’ll shoot ‘em afterwards then. C’mon,  Gogân, you’re always with me on this. Whaddaya say?”

“After what happened last time? Shit, no. Wanna get your dick sucked? Take an eight-ball and go upstairs.” Kili staring down at his knees now, the pistol clutched close to his chest as he bit hard on his swollen lip. There was a deadness in his eyes as he listened to the orcs talk about him, and it terrified Fili more than it did the previous fear and agony. It was the most transformative. And Fili snapped.

He felt disconnected from reality. He stood up like he was possessed, holding the Staukug in both hands and moving out from behind the crate. Kili gasped, on his hands and knees, half-clambering to his feet but remaining hidden. Mercilessly, Fili aimed at the couch and fired. It was deafening. He even shot at the stereo. It fizzled and sparked, and the music died. Bullet casings clattered at his feet, the spray of gunfire drowning out the screams of anger and surprise. He wasted his ammo in his blind fury, realising too late that the spare magazine was in the abandoned pack, and when the empty cartridge clicked, he dropped the micro-sub and reached for the pistol in his back. 

“Fili!” Kili yanked at his elbow. Two had been killed outright, one shot in the head and one in the neck and heart, still twitching. One, the loudmouth, had leaped behind the couch, presumably, and he could hear him swearing. The last, shot in the gut and chest and unable to move, pulled his piece out of his pocket. He had it aimed at Fili’s head before Kili pulled him back behind the crate, the bullet embedded in the concrete behind him at eye-level. 

“Oh, shit.” Fili panted. Two left, one wounded badly. It was probable but not easy, and this shitty pine wasn’t enough of a shield. He heard finally, the heavy barking of the warg. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of white. Fili cocked his gun but Kili got there first, stretching across him and firing off one, two, three bullets into the snarl turned into a high-pitched squeal and the warg stumbled and fell just a few feet short.

“You fucker!” The orc howled from behind the couch. Someone shot at the crate. Splinters flew, and Fili cringed at the sickening crunch. It sounded like bone. Fili peered around and tried to aim and fire. He got the wounded orc in the head, and he collapsed with a groan, the gun slipping through his bloodied fingers onto the floor. 

“Bring it.” Fili snarled and waited for the orc to peer out from behind the couch. He didn’t linger long; a dark head popped up, the silver nozzle of a thick-barrelled revolver gleaming against the bloodied upholstery. He fired a shot and missed, ducking back behind the crate as the orc fired two shots into the wall. No matter; the bastard only had six shots left in his revolver, and Fili had a semi-automatic pistol. He’d wait it out.

That was what the thought, at least, until he heard the orc shouting hoarsely. “Hey, it’s me. Get the fuck down here! We got trouble!  They— everyone else is dead!” Shit – he didn’t anticipate reinforcements. At his side, Kili stared, white-faced, waiting to see what Fili would do next. 

Fuck it. Fili shoved the gun back into his belt and scooped Kili up in his arms. “Hold on!” Keeping his back to the surviving orc, Fili ran towards the open door, counting the remaining six shots in his head. Five, four, three—  _ Fuck! _ Fili gasped as fire erupted in his left arm, but didn’t stop. Kili screamed, begged to be let go, but Fili plunged on into the lot, panting. He ran towards the nearest remaining car, parked haphazardly against the chain-link fence. His arm was  _ really  _ hurting now. Fili supported Kili on one knee and clawed at the door, melting with relief as the latch clicked. He flung it open, pushed Kili into the passenger seat, his bare, skinny limbs akimbo, and threw himself into the driver seat.

No keys. “Damn it!” Head down, Fili tore off the plastic case underneath the steering wheel. Wires spilled out, half-visible under the watery orange light. “I can’t remember— is it red or blue—”

“Move!” Kili snarled, leaning down until his head was between Fili’s knees. The glass on the driver’s window shattered with a gunshot, and they both shouted, Fili instinctively covering his head with his hands. “Oh, come on, come on…” Fili craned his head over the steering wheel. The orc was running across the lot towards them, shouting in the night. 

“Hurry up!” Fili panicked, reaching for his gun. 

“I got it, I got it!” Kili snapped back through a falling curtain of hair. A few seconds later, the engine rumbled into life and Fili slammed his foot down on the accelerator and pulled it into gear. The tyres screeched, the engine seizing for a heart-stopping moment and then lurched forward. He could barely see over the dashboard – just chain-link and the side of the building and a patch of amber-stained night sky. Swearing, Fili swing it around to the direction of the padlocked gates, the accelerator flat on the floor. Another gunshot rang out, spider-web cracks across the windscreen making it impossible to see. 

They crashed into the gates at speed, enough to break the chain and tear through the chain-link and twist the metal bars. Kili crawled across the massive passenger seat and started winding down the window. 

“Fuck, which way?” Fili hung a right, unable to see, hands shaking on the steering wheel. He looked down and thought he could see blood on his arm, gleaming wetly against the black fabric. 

“Keep going." Kili's eyes streamed in the wind, head and shoulders out the window. "Where's your getaway?"

"Gotta call him." His phone was still in his pocket, jammed in close with the butterfly knife. He fished it out, trying to dial Nori. "Left! Left!" Kili shouted. Fili heaved the wheel, pressing the phone to his ear. 

Nori answered straight away. "Yeah?"

"I got him." Fili panted. 

"OK, right. Now!"

The tyres squealed. “What the fuck is going on?" Nori demanded. “Where are you?"

"Down by tracks. East side. We're trying to get on the main road. Kili? We good?"

"Shit!" Kili yelled. "Headlights. We gotta ditch the ride. They’ll find us any moment."

“And what, walk? No chance. Nori?” 

“Mahal, you’re a mess.” Nori snapped down the line. 

“You never gave me a meetup point!” Fili shot back. 

“Left! Hard left!”

“I wasn’t giving that broad intel, and I wasn’t leaving it in a text. Stay off the main roads. There’s a storage lockup near you – First Security. It’s off Boazar Ave. It went bust a few months ago; no one around. Be there in ten minutes.” The line went dead.

“Some lockup on Boazar.” Fili repeated. “We going the right way?” 

“Make a left in… three seconds.” Kili glanced behind him. “OK, that car turned away. Stop driving like a fucking maniac, and we might get by.”

“Of course I’m driving like a maniac, I can’t see!” He pressed a palm lightly over his wound and hissed. His hand came away wet with blood. Kili saw it and froze.

“Y-You got hit?”

“Eyes on the road, Kili.” Fili shot back. “I’ll be fine.” 

Somehow, they got to First Security without killing themselves. Fili pulled into the alley behind it, yanked at wires until the car turned itself off and leaned against the headrest with a heavy sigh. Eyes closed, he reached out until he gripped Kili’s elbow. “We made it.” His voice shook. “We actually made it.”

“Fili,” He opened his eyes. Kili had drawn his good leg up. He rested his chin on his flexed knee and stared at the dashboard. “I-I’m so sorry.” He sniffed. “For dragging you back here. I-I never—”

“Don’t.” He cut Kili off, vehemently shaking his head. “ _ I’m  _ sorry. Sigrid was right. I never should have left you here. No matter what you did… You’re my brother. Looking after you should be the most important thing in the world to me a-and I let you down.” 

Kili stared at the dark tunnel before them, seconds ticking away before he drew in a quick breath. “Wh-Why did you leave like that? Without telling me? I understand leaving, but— why did you never take me with you?” It was a question Kili had only dared to ask once before, and back then, Fili didn’t know how to answer it.

But he could now. “I couldn’t deal with you.” Fili felt the raised circle of puckered, raw skin as he accidentally touched one of Kili’s burns. With a hiss, Kili pulled away. “I won’t lie. Yes, it was selfish and cruel of me, but I couldn’t keep trying to protect you. I gave up.” 

Kili sniffed. “I never asked you to look after me.” He whispered. 

“You didn’t want to change.” Fili had talked about this enough with his therapist. “There wasn’t any point in trying.”

Kili sniffed again. “I-I want to change now.” His pale limbs shifted in the gloom. “I do.” A trembling hand gripped Fili’s leg. “You’ll h-help me, right?” 

Fili opened his mouth to respond when the sudden gleam of light in the rearview mirror, paired with the deep rumbling of a car engine, made them both gasp and look over the seat. Fili gripped his gun and Kili instinctively pulled in close to him as the car grew closer along the alleyway. It stopped half a car-length behind them, the engine idling as the passenger door was thrown open and a familiar dwarvish silhouette jumped out and sprinted through the darkness. 

With a sob, Kili crawled across the seat, dragging his broken ankle behind him, fumbling at the door. Ori got there first, wrenching it open and smothering Kili in a vicious embrace. He gasped something unintelligible into his shoulder, and Fili’s hand relaxed on the gun. 

Fili got out of the car. Nori was in the driver’s seat, smoking with the window rolled down. “Give me one,” he groaned. He felt like he’d never wanted a cigarette as much as he did in that moment. “Any trouble on the way?”

“Nah.” Nori thrust the packet under his nose. “Heard a pack of bikes speeding towards the hideout, but didn’t see ‘em. They’ll be searching the main roads, not down here. How is he?” Fili lit up and leaned against the door, inhaling deeply. 

“Alive.” Fili muttered. “Broken ankle, burns and bruises. They broke him pretty bad. I think he’s still in shock.” 

“Probably will be for a while.” Nori still grasped the steering wheel, like he wanted to take off at any moment. “Where will you take him?”

“Hospital, first. Not here. Khamûlor, or nearer if I can. He needs a cast on that ankle. I think it’s shattered – bastards must have taken a hammer or something to it. He’ll need a few pins at least. Might have to get a replacement surgery.”

“Shit, they can do that now?” Fili nodded and took a long drag on his cigarette. 

“It’ll keep him clean, at least. I’ll get him on a waiting list for a detox clinic, but if he’s getting a replacement, there’ll be constant physio. And that’s not counting the psychological shit. I don’t think he’ll ever get a good night’s sleep again.” 

“And you got out OK?”

Fili looked down at his arm. “Shot,” he reported, touching it lightly again. He still couldn’t see. “I think it’s just a graze. I’ll stitch it up myself in the morning. Bottle of vodka and one of those travel sewing kits. Easy.” Nori nodded, still staring ahead at a spot over the steering wheel. “Nori,” Fili leaned in through the window. “I’m  _ really _ sorry about what I did to Ori. It was wrong—”

“Damn right it was.” Nori growled. Fili drew back. “I didn’t do this for you or Kili. I did this for him, all right? You just…” He sighed. “I worked so hard to keep Ori out of all of this.” Fili stared at his shoes, wondering if he should say sorry again or not. “Just get Kili out of here and never bring him back, OK?” 

“Yeah. I can do that.” Nori grumbled to himself and flashed the high-beams off and on. 

“Hurry up, you two.” He tapped his fingers against the wheel. “We gotta get moving.”

“I’ll get them.” Fili promised. He walked around the side of the car where he found Ori and Kili still hugging, Ori mumbling in his ear and Kili listening silently. 

“Come on.” Fili touched Ori on the shoulder. “Let’s get him in.” Each taking Kili’s arm, they managed to get him in the backseat of Nori’s car. Ori climbed in beside him, ignoring his brother’s displeased muttering, settling in close so Kili leaned against him, bare legs spread across his lap. 

“He needs something to eat.” Ori spoke up from the backseat. “What’s still open this time of night?”

“That Burger Box by the station is open twenty-four hours, isn’t it?” Fili suggested. Kili groaned at that, shaking his head as Fili looked over his shoulder at him.

“No. All I ever ate in there was double-stacks and cold fries.” He rasped. “Even the smell of it makes me sick.”

“There’s a pizza place that stays open all hours.” Nori suggested, that tightness softening in his face. “Ori, you’ll have to go in. The rest of us could get recognised.” 

“Get pepperoni.” Kili mumbled against Ori’s shoulder. “Extra cheese. Deep dish crust. And olives. I like olives.”

“Sure.” Ori rested his chin on Kili’s head, arms wrapped tight around him. “Just rest, OK? We’ve got you.” 

“So you have my car?” Nori nodded as he turned into the side-street. Fili sighed with relief. 

“Dropped it off at a safe house an hour out of town. Had to shake a tail your uncle put on us.” Nori pulled into the main road, keeping a sharp lookout for any other lights. “Should be there at dawn. Will Kili be all right till then?” Fili looked behind him. Kili leaned against Ori’s chest, eyes closed but not asleep, their hands clasped. 

“Yeah.” Fili rasped. No. He wouldn’t. “He’ll make it through.” 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Kili ate and ate until he was nearly sick, filling the car with the greasy smell of melted cheese. He leaned on Ori's shoulder and Fili thought he was sleeping, but when he turned and looked, he could see the gleam of his half-open eyes. Ori held onto him, kissed his cheek, stroked his hair. He reminded Fili of a child bringing home a shelter animal, tentatively exploding with love. Kili seemed to endure the touch, rather than relish it. Maybe he was too tired to move away. Maybe he was still in shock. Nori kept his eyes very firmly on the road.

No one in the car talked much – occasionally Ori murmured something in Kili's ear and Kili groaned a response, or Nori swore to himself under his breath. Fili couldn't bring himself to speak at all. He tore off half the sleeve of his shirt for a makeshift tourniquet on his arm, working by touch as the sky turned from charcoal to slate to ash, and a rim of white slowly spread out along the eastern horizon.

Nori’s safe house was a ramshackle old country cottage, the sagging porch groaning under the weight on warped furniture and potted plants that had withered and gone to seed. Yellowed lace curtains hid the interior from view, and the overgrown garden was encroaching on the gravel driveway, crunching underneath Nori's tyres.

“Who's place is this?" Fili finally spoke. "Does someone actually live here?"

"We did." Nori pulled around the back. “A long time ago.” A hedge, now wild, separated the backyard from the paddocks. From an old peach or apple tree, dead now, grey-limbed and covered in pale moss, a tyre hung suspended on a rotting bit of rope.  An old shed with some roof tiles missing was locked, a padlock and chain holding the lopsided doors shut. Nori killed the engine and clambered out, swinging his keyring on his finger. Fili watched as he unlocked the shed and heaved it open and there, amongst boxes of old jam jars and newspapers tied in bundles and rotting firewood that was never used, was his car.

"Hope you've still got the keys." Nori muttered as Fili joined him. “Couldn't find any spares. We had to wire the thing. I tried not to cause too much damage, but the steering case is fucked anyway. How did you even get it up here?"

"Hey," Fili fished them out of his pocket. “she looks like shit, but she runs well enough. I don’t make enough to do any better.” He unlocked the car and dragged his pack out of the backseat. He found a shirt for himself, rumpled but clean, getting off the black jersey and and the bulletproof vest. Fili studied it in a shaft of pale light, biting his lip. Three bullets were embedded in the kevlar, right between where his shoulderblades would have been.

Nori whistled. “He was a good shot. Lucky break.”

Fili looked down at his arm. “Mostly.” Throwing a few things over his good shoulder, he crossed the wild lawn. “Hey, Kili,” he called out. “I got some other stuff you can wear.”

Ori helped Kili into a pair of jeans – too big for him, but they’d do. Fili thrust a tee-shirt under his face, worn a few days ago, but miles cleaner than the filthy rag on his back, and told him to change. Kili pulled it over his head and tried to hide his body, hunched away from the both of them, but Fili caught the bruises, seizing Kili’s arm before he could move.

“When did they do this?” Fili hissed, pulling Kili closer to the window so he could study him in the grey, growing light. Shit, he was so thin. It turned his stomach to see how starved and skinny he was looking. It wasn’t from being locked up for a couple of weeks in a closet – this was months, years of decay and neglect, of chasing the next high while his body hollowed out. With a shiver, Fili recalled that gloomy photo of Kili by the riverside, the knife-sharp cheekbones and dull, faded eyes. But other damage was fresh; there were nasty bruises on his chest and abdomen, dark as dried blood. Fili touched them lightly, and Kili swatted his arms away, shrinking back with a hiss. “Do they still hurt?”

“A bit.” Kili said roughly. Ori was staring at him, wide-eyed, biting his lip. “It’ll be fine.”

“No. Stay still.” Fili slid his hands under the cool shirt, resting his palms against Kili’s ribs. “OK, breathe in and out for me, as deep as you can. Nice and steady.”

“I’m not a patient.” but Kili obeyed, closing his eyes. The breath was shallow and hitched, and Fili felt the spasm in his chin chest, the cracks in the bone that widened with the expansion of his lungs.

“You’ve got three broken ribs on the left side.” Fili lifted his shirt again, studying the black-purple bruises through the nest of hair on Kili’s stomach. “These are some bad knocks. Have you been, er, peeing any blood?” Ori let out an involuntary whimper at that, wringing his hands and staring at Kili, slowly shaking his head.

Kili opened his eyes and pulled the shirt down over his abdomen. “Did for a couple of days, but not anymore.” He turned away from Fili, swinging his good leg out of the car. “Help me out, will you?”

“I’ve got you.” Ori scrambled out across Nori’s massive backseat and held out his arms. “Let me.” Kili froze and breathed in sharply before he held out his hands. Fili followed in case he was needed, crunching on dead weeds and stray bits of gravel.

“Ori— You need to stop.” Kili stopped, grunted in pain with his eyes closed. Fili came to his rescue, taking his arm so they both could lift him completely off the ground. “We're not…”

“I-I know.” Ori pulled open the passenger door and helped Kili slide in. “Kili— I get it.” He crouched in the gap of the door, forearm resting on the edge of the seat. “Even if we were still together, this… it’s over.” Fili tried to look busy, rearranging piles of junk and clothes and papers in the backseat, but listening keenly. “It was over a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

Kili exhaled. “I really do love you.” The life had been wrung out of his voice. He sounded withered. Did he?

Fili looked up. Ori was smiling sadly as he straightened up and leaned in. He kissed Kili gently, wiping at his eyes as he pulled away. “Just— get better. Not just… this,” he gestured at Kili’s broken ankle, “b-but all of it. Please, promise me you’ll at least do that.”

“Yeah.” He sounded unsure, but he embraced Ori in return. When Ori pulled away, he locked eyes with Fili and gave a little jerk of his head.

“Hey,” Ori closed the car door and kept his back to Kili. He held a little slip of paper in his hand. “I, um, wiped my phone and got a new number. Nori’s idea. Said if I can’t keep in contact with him, then it’ll be easier to…” He let out a trembling sigh. “You know.”

“Why are you giving me this, then?” Fili crumpled it and slipped it in his pocket, trying not to look obvious.

“I can trust you.” Ori smiled weakly. “Just— Can you let me know, when he’s all OK? I don’t want to talk to him, I just…” He sniffed. “I just want to know he’ll be all right.”

“Sure.” Fili promised. “I’ll look after him. For real, this time. I’m not gonna abandon him again.”

Ori nodded, looked over his shoulder and into the car. Kili lolled against the headrest, staring at the ceiling and blinking rapidly. “I-I’ve been looking at art schools and things. If I work hard, I can build up a portfolio by the next round of applications. Industrial aesthetic is in right now, and there’s enough broken-down old buildings to take photos of.” He spoke distantly, half-believing himself. “I’ve gotta get out of here, Fili. I can’t stay anymore.”

“There’s nothing here for any of us.” That wasn’t entirely true. Nori was in his element – Nori, who lived on the edge and loved it, who was happiest sitting on a stakeout or planning a robbery or playing security. Nori was a cockroach.

“Hey,” Nori, almost as though he could feel Fili thinking about him, spoke up. He’d been leaning against his car and texting and now he stood up, putting it away. “The word's out that Kili’s missing. You need to go now.”

“All right.” Fili clapped Ori briefly on the shoulder. “Thank you.” He said. “And— Things will get better. I know it’s hard to say goodbye, but… it gets easier, in time.”

“Yeah.” Ori put on a brave face as he said goodbye to Kili one last time. Nori was still hostile, muttering that with any luck he wouldn't see them around, but Fili saw the way he looked across him into the passenger seat, the anger softening to sadness as he took Ori gently by the arm and told him to get into the car. Their eyes met for a moment, a flash of understanding as Nori’s guard weakened a fraction. They weren’t enemies; they were brothers, guardians, protectors, whose paths and goals had intersected and met a conflict.

Kili waved half-heartedly as they pulled away, his smile sad, lasting only a moment or so before it faded in a long, slow sigh. Fili had a thousand questions, and he began with what he thought would be the easiest. “Why didn't you tell me about Ori?" Kili inhaled sharply, staring out at the road, the colour of charcoal beneath an ashen sky. "Were you ashamed?"

"N-No." Kili toyed with the fraying hem on his borrowed shirt. “Maybe. To be honest, at first I thought it wasn’t worth mentioning, y'know? Then time went on, and I realised it had been three months and I'd never told you, and it would look weird to just announce it. Then it sort of felt like telling you would make it real serious, you know? Make it real. And that scared the hell out of me, s-so I didn't."

Fili nodded like he understood. "And did you... well, love him?" He flexed his bad arm and winced.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so." He murmured. "He's the only guy I've been with proper, you know. It's not like I have much else to compare those feelings to. You know me – I've never been serious about anything." Self-loathing dripped from every word. “And he, like, really loved me. Even after all the shit I did to him, he was still there. No one ever thought I was worth all that before."

Guilt twinged in Fili's chest. “Nori told me you got over him pretty quick."

"I was cracked out that night at the river." Kili said bluntly. “That's why Ori left me. Too unpredictable. I drove him away."

"Wait." Fili frowned at the road. "I thought you dumped Ori."

"No, Ori suggested the break." Kili corrected him. “The last time I saw him before… you know, I said it wasn’t working out, but I wanted to fix it. I never wanted to leave him. Everything was spinning out of control, Fili. But he never gave me the chance to say any of that. He just started crying and saying he wanted to take a break. Ori tried to blame me, I know, but truth is, he couldn't deal with me anymore. Mahal, I'd still be with him if I could. He was the only thing in my life that had a chance of ever going right." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, forehead on splayed fingers. "But I fucked it up." He groaned. "Like I’ve fucked everything up.”

"We all make mistakes." Fili brought the car up to speed on the road. "You're alive, and that's what matters. That's the only thing that I care about." Everything else was an afterthought. “We’ll work through everything together. I’ll give you all the help you need, and we’ll get you right again.”

“Right.” Kili echoed, sounding lost in a dream. A stretch of silence, yawning ahead of them like the open road that wound on into the distance, disappearing in a soft grey haze. "Do you have anything I can take?" He lifted his head and looked over. "I know you're off the smack and coke and crystal, but..." Fili's knuckles visibly tightened on the steering wheel. "Fili, my ankle really hurts." His voice wobbled. “I just want something to take the edge off."

"If you're asking whether I'm stupid enough to keep weed in a car that gets rego-checked by every cop who drives past, no. Out of luck." Kili groaned, leaning back on the heels of his hands. “I'll get something to sterilise my arm the next open liquor store we pass. It'll have to do for now.” The pale knobs of Kili’s knuckles jutted up through his greasy tangles. “When was the last time you had anything?” Fili had to ask. Dealing with Kili coming down, getting strung out on top of all of this, would push it from difficult to impossible.

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Kili hunched in a little further on himself. “N-Not too long ago. Just a bit of smack. Enough to keep floating. I couldn’t stand crystal in that fucking cupboard. I ended up punching the walls and they taped me up.”

Fili swallowed hard. “H-How did you get it?” But he knew that already. He’d heard the orcs bragging about it while they both listened, saw the way Kili went cold and stiff, deadening himself to the outside world. “Did they…” He couldn’t bring himself to say or even think it. It was too horrible.

“They didn’t need to. They thought it was funny, Thorin’s kidnapped nephew turning tricks for smack.” He inhaled sharply and lowered his hands. “A-And I was fine with that.”

“Why did you do it?” Fili whispered. As soon as the question was asked, he regretted it. Kili’s head snapped up with a growl, hurt, and he clenched his wounded hands into fists.

“Fuck you.” He spat, breath quickening, fractured ribs heaving in and out. “You know what it’s like, Fili. Don’t you dare pull that high and mighty shit with me.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Fili backtracked so fast his head was spinning, slowing the car on the abandoned road. “I-It’s just— I’m trying to take this all in at once. I didn't even know you were bi and had a boyfriend. Now I find out—”

But Kili still glared at him, sharp and mistrusting. “I’m a fuck-up. Yeah, I know. Everything— it always turns to shit, all right? You happy? There. You’re so— so fucking perfect and preachy and your life is so fucking together and I’m just a whore junkie mess, right?”

Fili had touched a raw nerve, and his stomach tightened in a hot flush of contrition. “I don’t think that—”

“Don’t you?” Kili interrupted him, gripping the dashboard like he wanted to tear it out. “Honestly?”

Fili stilled. Dozens of scrambled half-sentences flashed through his brain – all false, all lies and half-truths, condescending. He swallowed hard and long after the silence became uncomfortable, he was still struggling for something to say, because he knew that Kili was completely right.

Kili’s nails scraped against the plastic as he reached his breaking point. “You know, fuck you!" He slammed his fist down. "You self-righteous prick, like you've never screwed up in your life!" Seized by surprise, Fili couldn't respond. "What about Ella, huh?"

Fili's blood went cold. "Don't you dare talk about her—"

"You sit there and tell me I fucked up?" Kili was growing hoarse. "You're a piece of shit too, Fili! You ran out on your fiancee a week after she miscarried!"

The tyres squealed and the brothers were jolted in their seats as Fili slammed on the brakes. He gripped the steering wheel, shaking so hard his teeth rattled in his skull in the humiliation and guilt and flooding, bitter fury. "Shut up." Fili whispered. "Shut up, Kili, or I will throw you out of this car."

"You know what? To hell with this. To hell with you!" Kili fumbled with the seatbelt. "I'm not— not gonna be lectured by some lying hypocrite." he wrenched at the door handle. "I don't want your help!"

“Hey— Hey!” Fili shouted, tried to lunge after him, but was still buckled in. Kili dragged himself out of the car and made it half a step before he stumbled, tearing holes in Fili’s cheap jeans as he fell knee-first into the gravel with a sharp cry. “Kili, stop this!" He tried to seize Kili, clambering out of the car and pulling him back in, but Kili hit back, clawing at him with filthy, ragged nails.

"Don't touch me!" They bit into Fili's cheek, leaving an ugly red mark in the hollow of his face, and they sprang away, panting. "You're a bastard, Fili. A real bastard." Fili endured the rage silently, feeling it burn and wither his insides as his head throbbed and the rush made it hard to breathe. He almost hated Kili in that moment. But Fili knew it was a self-loathing more than anything else; anger at his own devastating mistakes, and Kili bore that anger by proxy. Kili must have been feeling the same as he told Fili about the sick shit he had to do just to get high. No wonder he lashed out. Fili rested on the balls of his feet and breathed slowly, in and out. It was already happening; panic was taking hold, robbing Kili of his senses. Coaxing Kili down from one of his fits of anger had always been hard, and Fili just didn’t have the strength to fight him.

“All right.” Fili slowly got down on his knees. “Want the truth? Maybe I am a bastard. I screwed up. But that doesn't mean you're any better.” Kili listened silently, glaring at him. “I-I tried to make things better, but you're just an arrogant, thick-headed spoiled brat.” It hurt to say it, and it hurt Kili more to hear it. He recoiled from the barbed words, looking betrayed. “But you're still my brother. I'll fight for you, always." He licked his lips, wondering how to proceed, how far he could push Kili. “You need to let me help you, OK? You can't just get angry and attack me and push me away."

“You hypocrite.” Kili hissed through gritted teeth. “You know that? C-Can’t you just… I don’t know.” Frustrated, he stared up at the sky. “Can you just be there without any of this big-brother shit?”

“What, caring for you?” His thighs already hurting, Fili sat down and crossed his legs. “Is this why you kept everything from me for so long? Were you… ashamed?”

“Knowing what a judgemental ass you can be? Of course I was ashamed.” Kili snapped. He wrapped his arms around his middle.

“Kili...” He ached with guilt and pity. Fili half-wanted to snap back that yes, he treated Kili like a child because he was acting like one, but he held his tongue. These moments were precious, with Kili balancing on the knife-edge. “I just want to help you.” He smiled. “OK?”

Kili relaxed a degree, settling back on the ground so he could stretch the broken ankle out. "H-Help me how?" He was still suspicious and wounded, but he stopped looking he was going to try and run away.

"First, we'll get you cleaned up. Once we get to a hospital, I'll make some calls—"

Kili made a strangled noise in his throat. "A hospital?"

"Of course I'm taking you to a hospital," Fili picked up a loose stone and squeezed it between his forefinger and thumb. “You're going to need surgery on that ankle, and I want your organs scanned for internal bleeding. You could be sitting on a ruptured kidney or liver."

"No— No." Kili started to shake. “Fili, I c-can’t go to a hospital. Can't you just... bandage me up?"

"I'm a student nurse, not an orthopedic specialist." Fili scoffed. “No arguments; you have to go."

"No!" He shouted, voice high and frightened. “I'm not going!"

Unease gnawed at Fili's insides. "What are you scared of?" He tried to remain clear-headed and even, as though he was talking his brother down off a ledge.

“I-If I go," Kili sniffed, "Then my name will go in the system and they'll find me."

"Thorin won't touch you in a hospital," Fili promised. “Even he wouldn't be so brazen."

"Not Thorin." Kili screwed his face up. "The police."

Fili looked back. The road was a wavering grey ribbon ahead of him, and his throat was dry and throbbing. “Wh-Why would they want you?" His voice was splintered. "For the love of Mahal, Kili, please don't tell me..."

"There'll be a warrant out." Kili whispered. Fili shook his head as the very ground beneath him seemed to pitch and roll with the horrible realisation. Third conviction, and Kili was looking at a life sentence behind bars.

"Oh fuck." He finally choked out. "You— fuck." It crushed Fili, and all the dreams he had of putting everything right. The worst insults flashed through Fili’s head, but he kept them all locked inside, balling his hands into shaking fists as he tried so hard to stay in control.

"The cop reckoned I was trying to jack a car." He began, clawing at his oversized jeans. “But it wasn't; I-I knew the guy who owned it, and I was gonna bring it back in the morning. But he didn't listen a-and then he said I was resisting arrest and tasered me a-and..." Kili let out a breathless sob. "It wasn't my fault. It wasn't."

"It's never your fault." The devastation was tearing Fili apart inside. "So what, you skipped your court date? You— Do you realise what you've done?"

"You think I don't know?" Kili was getting angry again. “I was trying to fix it. That's what all of this was!"

Fili stilled. “All of what?"

Kili's body shook as he sighed, breath punctuated with a dry sob. "The crystal. This senior detective— when I was at the station and he realised who I was, he s-said that for a hundred grand, he could make it all go away. I asked Thorin – I begged him, but he said it was too much. He'd already paid two others to keep me out, a-and I wasn't worth the trouble." Fili listened, heart sinking with every fractured word. "S-So I started taking the crystal and selling it. I was getting twenty grand a go, paying off the SHPD. He said the moment I missed an installment, he'd file the report and say that some administration error got me lost in the system. Last week – it would have been the last one." Kili's head fell into his hands again. "I know I'm a fuck-up." He moaned. “I know should have just gone to court and hoped for community service. But I was so scared, Fili. I-I don't want to go to jail again. And that would have been it – life. The rest of my damn life in prison. I don't deserve that."

Fili chewed on it all for what felt like hours. The only sound was the rumble of the idling car, a distant bird crowing, the stuttered gasps as Kili sobbed into his hands, exhausted and humiliated. Through a net of dense cloud, the sun had risen, sky the greyish-white of a preserved corpse. He felt torn in two. Fili ached for his brother, but at the time time, he was cautious, almost suspicious at the story Kili had hastily woven together. The uncomfortable thought that Kili lied intruded in on his mind, and he couldn’t clear it. What if all of this, playing the victim, the spurned lover, the kid caught at the wrong place at the wrong time, was just another act? Fili had been sucked in before, left red-faced and betrayed as Kili spat on his attempts to help him. But this was different. It had to be this time. Kili’s sobs weren’t the usual crocodile tears – they were real in their pain, wounded and desperate. It seemed to Fili the most real thing he’d done in years. He shuffled forward so he could lean over and wrap his arms tight around his doomed brother. "It's all right," he murmured against Kili's filthy hair. “Listen to me, Kili. Everything will be fine.” No, it wouldn't.

Kili buried his face in his good shoulder. “You’re right. All I do is screw everything up. Everything— no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, this shit always happens.”

“You’re not going to jail.” Fili promised. “Look – the only people who get locked up for non-violent third offences have shitty public defenders that take on ten cases a time just to get by.” Kili was still trembling. “I’ll get a lawyer— the best. Even if I have to take out a loan so big I get my kneecaps busted. Mahal, you’re talking about being blackmailed by a cop. You think anything he tries to throw at you will hold up in court?” Kili sniffed. “And even if it sticks, there’ll be names you know, locations. We’ll cut you a deal.”

“I’m not a rat.” Kili muttered against his shirt, lifting his head. There it was – that old, reckless flash of disobedience. “Friends or enemies.”

“Kili,” His voice hardened. “Do you want me to help you?” Dark eyes were fixed on him, ringed in grey and blue. Kili nodded. “Then you need to pull your head in, all right? Listen to me. If you have to squeal, you will.” Fili’s hands tightened on Kili’s bony arms, like he wanted to shake him. “First thing, we’re going to go to a hospital and get you looked at.”

“I’m not letting them just walk in—”

"They won’t. No feds, no cops." Fili promised. "The hospital's bound under oath to treat you. I'll stick by you and make sure that no one forces you to answer any questions."

Kili nodded. “And then what?" His voice grew in confidence, and he'd stopped looking like he was going to break down at any moment.

"Depends," Fili spoke carefully. "Rehab clinic, physio, maybe, uh, even inpatient mental health if they think it's necessary."

Kili bristled. "I'm not crazy. You're not locking me up in some padded cell."

"I'm not calling you crazy. Look," Fili sighed, "you've been through an extremely traumatic experience and you’re still in shock. PTSD could manifest itself in any number of ways – panic attacks, sleeplessness, depression, psychotic episodes—”

“I’m not crazy!” Fili winced. “Just— stop talking about me like I’m in one of your stupid textbooks, all right? I-I just…” Kili panted, staring at the road over Fili's shoulder that went on and on in front of them for ever. “I’m so tired, Fili.”

"I know." Fili's voice cracked. “I'm tired too." Slowly, he stood up and held his hand out. "Come on. The sooner we get on the road, the sooner we can get some sleep." Kili nodded and tentatively took Fili's hand, clinging on while Fili carefully manoeuvred him into the car and shut the door. He walked around and slid into the driver's seat, bringing the car up to speed while he buckled himself in.

Fili started the car, and Kili mumbled under his breath, face turned away. “What?"

Kili sighed. “I'm sorry about Ella." Another needle pierced Fili's heart at the mention of her name. Kili saw it. "I shouldn't have brought that up."

The car sped up, more meters of road ticking under the wheels. “You would have left too, if you saw." There was a flash in his mind's eye, a sickly memory — purplish-grey against white tiles, twisted and deflated. Deformed. Fili swallowed down the bitterness in his throat. “Yeah, I left, but she was the one that poisoned it. She— She was the one who couldn't keep clean. Not even for that." Mahal, he felt tired now. Thinking about that on top of everything else sapped what little strength he had left.

Kili waited a minute, so precise he must have timed it on the dashboard clock. “How long until I can stay with you?" His voice was faded and drained as he traced the tattooed curve of a snakes’ tail on his forearm. “How long were you put away for?"

"I wasn't put away. Rehab isn't prison." Fili said. "You'll be in there for a long time, Kili. Four, maybe six months." Another period of stiff silence. "I'll come and see you at least twice a week. You'll get sick of me." He forced a chuckle, but Kili didn't smile back. "Hey," He reached across to squeeze Kili's shoulder. “I won't lie – it's going to be the hardest thing you'll ever do. They'll chew you up and spit you out and rip you into pieces." The bony joint shuddered. “You're going to hate yourself. You'll want to die."

"You're not selling it." Kili muttered, pulling away and leaning against the window.

“I'm just being truthful." Fili shrugged. “Kili, I can't take care of you yet. You need professional help. And I'll make sure you get it. I-I won't put you second anymore. Whatever it takes, whatever it costs, I'll do it. And when you get out, I'll be there. Even if I have to quit school and work to watch you twenty-four hours a day, I'll do it. But..." Fuck, he was so tired. He'd kill for a coffee. And a smoke. “I need you to promise me you will try with everything you have. This is the last chance you will ever get, Kili. I can't do this twice."

Kili inhaled deeply and straightened up. His palms were flat on his ripped jeans. “I will." And he sounded like he meant it, too. "I promise."

* * *

 

At eight, Fili thought it was late enough to start making some calls. Kili was sleeping in the back, groaning to himself from time to time, curled up on his side with his head pillowed on a crumpled sweatshirt. Fili found himself looking compulsively over his shoulder to check up on him, freezing up at every moan and whimper, too tense to listen to any music. He was being overprotective, but, hell, he couldn’t help it. How could anyone expect anything different after what had happened that night? How was he going to leave him alone overnight in hospital, let alone the weeks and months of rehab?

First, he called his therapist. Answer phone. “Hi, Alan.” Fili drove with the cellphone wedged in between his jawbone and shoulder, one hand on the steering wheel, the bad arm curled up on his lap. “It’s, uh, me. I know we had a one-on-one on Monday, but, um…” He sighed. “I’ve had some family stuff come up.” Fili paused and listened to the hush of the machine, like it was talking. “I’m OK, mostly, but my brother, uh, he’s— he’s not.” The car rumbled on beneath his feet, taking him further and further away from what was once home. “I’ve got to take care of him for a while, and I don’t know when I’ll be back in town. When— When I know, I’ll call you again. Take care.” Fili hung up, screwing his eyes up and trying to remember the number of the agency as he stared at the road. On the third try he finally got through. Thankfully, his supervisor answered, and when he explained he had a family emergency and didn’t know when he’d be back, she sighed sadly and, voice dripping with sympathy, told him to keep in touch. So at least he didn’t burn that bridge completely. Then he called his place, left a message saying he didn't know when he'd be back but he'd keep up with paying the rent and they could let friends crash in his bed if they liked.

Then he called Sigrid. She answered straight away, breathing heavily. "Fili?" He found a smile breaking across his face at her voice, a throbbing that pulsed deep in his bones.

“Morning," he croaked, and she burst out laughing, hysterical giggles that crumbled into sobs. "Hey, hey," Fili kept his voice low. "Don't cry. It's all right. I'm all right."

"Oh— Oh— Eru, Fili, I've been up all night waiting." She sniffed. “And then I didn't hear anything and I thought the worst..."

"I would have called earlier," he winced, "but I didn't want to wake you." A half-laugh rasped in his throat. “I'm sorry."

"I'm just glad you're OK." Sigrid was calming down now, breathing evening out. "And your brother, is he all right? Have you got him?"

"Um..." Fili glanced over his shoulder. Still asleep. “I've got him. But he's not really all right. I don't know what's more broken, his body or his mind." Or his future. “But I've got him.”

"That's good." He could hear the tentative smile in her voice. “Really good."

"Yeah." A car flicked past in the other direction, sleek and inconspicuous. “We'll be all right, the two of us. I-I got a good feeling, you know?" Lie.

“I know you will be." She sighed. “It's so stupid. I miss you already. Even though it was just a couple of days... I dunno. It feels like forever."

"Me too." Fili murmured. “Look— again, you don’t know how grateful I am. You saved the both of us, Kili and me."

"Hey, was I just gonna say no?" Fili heard the rustle of clothing and guessed that she was dressing for the day. “Besides, I totally owed you. You picked me up, remember?"

"Yeah." Fili smiled. “I remember."

There was a pause. “It sucks, I know." Sigrid spoke up first. "I like you a lot, Fili. You got a past, sure, but you've got your head screwed on. You're gonna be great, with the nursing and social work. You've got a great heart." It was starting to sound like a goodbye, and Fili's heart started to pound. “Hey, if I didn't have the kids... you know, Edoras has a lot of opportunity. Big city and all that."

"In another lifetime, huh?" Breathing was painful.

“Yeah, maybe." Sigrid sounded upset too. "Just... take care, Fili. You'll get you and your brother through all of this."

"You too." Fili was utterly ruined. He'd have to stop for coffee soon, or he'd fall asleep behind the wheel and kill them both. "Good luck with Bain and Tilda. They're great kids. And with the diploma. You're better than some crappy gas station, Sigrid."

Sigrid chuckled. “Thanks." Another sigh. “Look, I gotta walk Tilda to school and get the bus for work. I'm sorry."

"No, it's OK." Fili's throat closed. He was coming up to the end of the highway, where the ruler-straight road wound through the craggy, naked hills. “I should probably concentrate on the road anyway." His stomach was twisted in knots and he could feel a cold chill on his back. “So, uh, goodbye, then.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was small, a crackle of static as soft as a whisper. “Hey, you can always call me again. Or I can call you. Catch up and that.” But they wouldn’t. Fili could see it now – lying awake in bed, her number typed out on the screen with his thumb hovering over the ‘Call’ button for seconds, minutes, hours, never plucking up the courage to ever press it. There was a breaking in his chest and he tried to force back the lump in his throat with a cough. “Goodbye, Fili.”

And then she was gone. The dial tone hummed against his ear as Fili kept the phone pressed against his jaw. It was like a drill going into his head, deafening, piercing, excruciating. He could only take it for a few seconds before lolling his head, the plastic falling into his lap. Again, he checked on Kili. Still asleep. Out the back window above him, Shulkahar was a distant smudge against the horizon, almost swallowed up in the haze of the morning. He could blot it out with a finger.

On an impulse, he picked up the phone one last time, tapped out a number that he could recall in an instant, seared into his brain like a tattoo or the carving of a hot knife. It rang once, twice, three times, and FIli was seized with panic. He nearly hung up, but instead he held on, until the answer phone clicked in and a beep rang in his ear.

"Uh, hi. It's me." His voice shook. "It's— It's been a while, hasn't it?" Fili cleared his throat and took a deep breath in. "I know this seems like it's out of the blue, but... I just wanted to say sorry for, well, everything." Fili gave his brother a quick look. Still asleep. He lowered his voice. "I was a real shit, walking out on you like that. There's no excuse for it. We could have talked or given it another go. I could have tried harder. I could have been fucking honest for the first time in my damn life, that would have been a start. But I just ran away. And I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I fucked everything up for us. I know I must have hurt you and..." Fili shook his head and caught himself. "A-And I just wanted to let you know that... I'm done with running. I get that it's probably meaningless after so long, and I know you'll never forgive me, but..." He could feel a stinging in his eyes as the road wavered. “I'm not angry at you anymore." The message would be too long soon, and Fili knew he has to wind it up. “So, I guess I just wanted to say that. If you want to talk, you know, you can always call me. I promise I'll answer this time." More burning in his throat. "I'm sorry, Ella."

He hung up, feeling only slightly better after his apology. Maybe she’d call him, maybe not. They had both done wrong by each other, and Fili wouldn’t begrudge her silence. Kili was right. He was a bastard for leaving her, for packing up and leaving because things got too hard, because was angry, because he thought there was no other way out. That wasn’t going to happen again. Fili made the vow in his head. This was a new start for Kili, and in a way, it was for Fili as well. Even though made the break years ago, he was still tied here, spiritually. And it wasn’t just his brother that kept him bound. Fili wouldn’t delude himself with that bullshit. He held himself back, refused to get better, fell into the same old cycles, even when Kili was completely out of the picture. That wasn’t happening anymore. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but Fili felt older as he drove along the highway, listening to Kili’s steady breathing. He felt changed. A rush of homesickness, one he hadn’t felt in years, enveloped Fili as he realised that he really, truly, was never coming back to this place. There was no second chances, no loose ends, no unfinished business. All he had were scars and memories and a single, faded photograph. And his brother. Fuck everything else.

Fili fiddled with the creaky gears, slowed up on the accelerator as the car groaned through the first corner of the winding road. Behind him, the city vanished from view.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand done! Phew. A year after I started and two weeks after it was supposed to be done (as a one-year anniversary for said birthday which started the whole thing. ooooopsss). Actually I'm just glad I finished the darn thing. I think it's the first long(ish) fic I've finished in like 6 years. And no I'm not exaggerating.


End file.
